


I Know The Sound Of Your Heart

by corinnemaree



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:58:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8467966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinnemaree/pseuds/corinnemaree
Summary: Short collection of clawen fics based off of songsDay 1: Tear In My HeartDay 2: This Town Day 3: Love Me NowDay 4: Let Her GoDay 5: Body SayDay 6: Let's Hurt TonightDay 7: My DearBonus: One Bad Night





	1. Tear In My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Summary: On the ride home, Owen cursed his Government for not filling potholes. And starts to realise things about the woman sleeping in the passenger seat. 
> 
>  
> 
> So, this song week is literally so i can post stuff whilst I’m housesitting for my extended family. I’m hoping you all love it. I’ve been looking forward to it for a while. (if this week goes well, please let me know because there is a possible bonus by the end) - Each fic has some leeway in terms of relation to each song

_My heart is my armor,_

_She's the tear in my heart, she's a carver,_

_She's a butcher with a smile, cut me farther,_

_Than I've ever been._

Owen had been driving for what seemed like an eternity. With little noise from Claire, he was beginning to wonder if she had just grown tired of his conversation. He glanced over to her, then, as he noticed, she was sleeping against the window. Owen gave a soft chuckle and continued home. They had been travelling from Green Bay back to Chicago, after their day with Claire’s parents. Claire had said earlier in their ride that the entire trip was probably killing him, as he had always hated the Green Bay Packers. What could he say, he loved the Seattle Seahawks too much.

The drive was long, almost three hours, probably longer. Owen had been stuck with his own thoughts for just as long. When Claire suggested that they visit her family, he was so nervous; he had rarely met his girlfriend’s family before, so this was a big thing. On the trip up the day before, Claire mentioned that her family had never met any of her boyfriends; this didn’t make him any less nervous.

Even when he was there, Claire kept telling him to relax, to stop getting so in his head, but that was all he could do. He thought of himself not being good enough, he thought of how Claire was so amazing and that he couldn’t be so lucky to have her in his life. That’s all he was thinking about; Claire and what he could do. He loved her with everything he had, and after everything he had been through, war and then Jurassic World, it was hard to figure out what was worth living for. A fixed point in time would be that desperate moment of want and Owen hung on for dear life.

Owen had struggled to find himself, always taking others out of the equation as to not hurt them. Even when his first date with Claire was done, he was still holding up his walls, ready to keep them all out. Yet, every time she would come around, teasing and arguing with him, he felt himself getting back to where he wanted to be. He tried to fight it, tried to reason why they were so incompatible, but she wore him down without even meaning to; beautiful and dangerously enticing.

The music on the radio was draining, but Owen sang songs in his head. Claire had a favourite Beatles song that she sings loudly in the apartment on lazy Sunday mornings. _I’ve Just Seen A Face_. She twists on her soles, her hips swaying in her little pajama shorts and her now long hair shaking wildly as she dances. Owen takes himself up from the bed, grabbing onto her wrist and spinning her around as she giggles and sings. Owen watched her face, her cheeks round and rosy red, beaming with excitement and happiness. Any song could play, but whenever he heard that one, he always saw Claire.

Owen remembered the day after Jurassic World, the long night that seemed to last for days. Then, the soft and cautious knock on his door. As he opened it, Claire stood there, shaking and unsure of herself. Owen had never seen her that way before. Not speaking, he opened the door wider and let her come inside. They didn’t say a word, just finding their spots on the bed and staring at each other before their eyes failed. They didn’t talk about that night - they both just needed to not feel alone.

When the morning came, Owen bucked up the courage and knew he had to stop being an ass. He asked Claire on a proper date, not then but soon. She was weary and hesitated before simply nodding and going back to her own hotel room. Weeks past before they finally felt at peace with going on a date - although they still had nights where they slept in each other’s bed. It was always worse at night. The date was nice, Owen dressing properly this time, no itinerary and just a date where they could talk and be happy.

And the oddest thing happened. Owen felt himself opening up, not letting himself be closed off. He would laugh and joke with Claire, her smiling and that ridiculous giggle had him feeling like his chest was heaving. His heart would race and he couldn’t keep the smile from his lips. She was making him feel like everything bad that ever happened was just a far off memory and Claire was the sun, brightening up everything around him. She was his cliche and he loved it.

Taking the roads home, Owen hit a hole, hard. He hissed, looking quickly over to Claire, who still remained sound asleep against the door of the car, legs picked up onto the chair somewhere along the journey. “Fucking Government, I swear,” he swore silently. He may have fought for the country, but how the fuck did this stupid country not fix up all these damn potholes? Claire commented on them every time they drove down that road.

Avoiding them carefully, he would look over to Claire when they were at stoplights. She was so blissful, taking in her sleep like it was all she was looking forward to. Claire throughout the trip had been nervous for her own reasons, secretly wanting her parents to approve of Owen. She was cute that way. When she was there, she at Owen’s side, smiling and trying to get along with her parents without any dramas. All the Dearings were on their best behaviour. Owen loved her family, getting on with her dad more than he expected, even talking about the gaming difference between Seahawks and Packers.

Pulling into their driveway, the car now off, Claire still slept, her cheeks round as she leaned against them. He shook his head before getting their bags from the back and loading them into the house. When that was all done, Owen yawned and saw Claire still cuddled up in the car, shifting away from the door. He was thankful for that at least. He went to the car door, opening it silently and tapped on Claire’s arm. She shifted just slightly and cracked her eyes open.

“Hey, we’re home,” he muttered and she groaned, stretched out a bit.

“I’ll help with the -” she mumbled.

“I already did it,” Owen interrupted and she looked confused for a moment.

“Oh,” she said before clearing her throat. “Lean in,” she gave a vague gesture and Owen did so. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he rolled his eyes, scooping up her legs and helping her out of the car.

“Still tired, honey?” he asked and she gave a sheepish nod.

“You’ve met my family,” she giggled, her head resting on his shoulder. Owen closed the car door, locking it behind him and made his way into the house. Claire yawned cuddling in tighter to Owen as he held her up and walked her to their bedroom. “Time for a nice cuddle in bed,” she muttered, entering the threshold. She gave a lazy kiss to his shoulder, smiling as he held her.

“Hmm,” he hummed back, laying her down and tucking her into bed. She would hate him in the morning for leaving her in her clothes, but she was too exhausted to take them off and he wasn’t exactly going to strip his girlfriend down. He left her there, stroking her hair out of her face. When he started to leave, she caught his finger quickly.

“Where are you going?” she asked tiredly. He leaned in, placing a kiss on her forehead and she smiled up at him.

“I’m just going to make sure everything is locked up, go back to sleep, I’ll be right back,” he whispered, kissing her once more and walking out of the bedroom. He left a crack in the door open before locking up the house again and stopping in the middle of the living room. Owen looked towards the bedroom, swallowing at the thought of it all. She was so perfect, she deserved better than him, and yet, at this point, he felt as though he couldn’t live without her.

Taking a seat on the couch, he thought on her, as he had been doing for the past few hours. Claire had a way of opening him up, making him want to feel the things he wanted to ignore for so long. All she had to do was smile at him, and it tore him apart, making the worthless and horrible parts of him fade and he was smiling alongside her. She could ruin him in a moment and it would keep him alive for days.

And then the question came up. What if he had never met Claire? His whole body stilled, the idea itself stinging his eyes and he was set off into the darkest points of his mind. He wouldn’t be happy, he wouldn’t be letting people in, he would be stuck and unhappy and wishing for things to be better later. He wouldn’t have the slightest chance of a life that didn’t involve the bottom of a bottle.

Then, a soft clearing of a throat came into the room and Owen jumped slightly. He looked up to see Claire rubbing at her eyes, yawning with a blanket draped over her shoulders. “When I went to bed, I thought you’d be going with me,” Claire muttered, dragging the blanket behind her as it didn’t fit over her fully. Owen smiled at the sleepy sight of his gorgeous girlfriend. “Why are you still awake?” she asked, settling down beside him.

“I was thinking,” he started, clearing his throat as it had become a danger zone for wavering speech.

“Never a good sign,” she giggled, but as Owen stared down at his hands, Claire’s finger touched underneath his chin and made him look at her. “What’s up, sweetie?” she asked sweetly and he broke.

“I really love you,” he confessed, something he had done numerous times before, but something fuelled it and meant it with every part of who he was.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her hand running over the back of his neck and her fingers playing delicately with the ends of his hair.

“I sat in the car with my own thoughts for three hours,” he started when she jabbed his shoulder.

“Two and a half,” she corrected and Owen smirked.

“Yeah, thirty minutes in and then you fell asleep,” he scoffed and Claire jabbed him again.

“You’re mean,” she laughed lazily, leaning into him a little more.

“If you had asked me three years ago, I would have laughed at the idea of being happy,” he told her. “And then there was you, making me feel alive for the first time in a long time,” he smiled over to her and Claire sighed, rolling her eyes at the idea.

“Yeah, that date must have been a thrill,” she joked and Owen shrugged.

“Claire, I’ve liked you for a long time. You were you and always have been. That date was bad for you, but I loved it. Itinerary and all,” he confessed and Claire’s brow furrowed quizzically.

“You’re lying,” she responded and Owen nodded.

“A little, but falling in love with you made me see the world a little clearer,” he rattled on and Claire jabbed his shoulder a little more. He raised his hand up, touching the roundness of her jaw with his knuckles tenderly. “You push me to see things in a different light, you make sure I’m not an ass when I could very well be in the matter of seconds. You’re my everything and I’m glad I have you,” he said honestly and Claire gave a breathlessly sigh, smiling at him and setting him ablaze, joy radiating in his chest.

“You’re a wonder, Owen Grady,” Claire said, her forehead leaning against his own.

“I love you,” he muttered, his hand on her knee, just her touch keeping him grounded in happiness.

“I love you too,” she said back, taking his hand and pulling him up from the couch. “Now bed. You have Green Bay on you,” she told him and he groaned, lazily walking behind her.

“Don’t remind me,” he mumbled.

“We’ll watch some Seahawk games tomorrow. Just for you,” she told him, glancing over her shoulder as they made their way back to bed.

“I somehow love you even more,” he said, pulling her in and holding her from behind, kissing her temple as she giggled.

No matter how much Owen fought it, no matter how much his cynical mind wanted to keep himself locked away, Claire was there, bringing him back to happiness. She fought to keep him out of his own head and with her and the things she loved. Owen loved being that for her, loved being with her. Owen felt as though he had a life worth living when she was apart of it.

Songs sounded better when she sang them off key, the days seems brighter whenever she smiled; she was a gift to his very existence and he was going to let her slip through his fingers. No matter if they were just on the couch or fucking until they were out of breath, just being near her was enough to feel alive. Owen wanted to keep her by his side for as long as he could. That’s why he wanted to propose to her, the ring stuffed away in his sock drawer. He wasn’t sure when or how, but he knew it was going to be soon.

Now changed and in bed, Claire cuddled into his chest, her hand on his chest and her head resting down. Owen planted a kiss on her crown, holding her with certainty and knowing she would be his forever, and he was hers. Claire slept soundly, her breathing steady yet Owen stayed awake a while longer. He played with her hair, humming to Claire’s favourite song and when he didn’t even realise it, Claire woke, barely opening her eyes.

“Owen,” her voice was soft and drained. “I love you, but go to sleep already,” she mumbled, cuddling in closer and her fingers running delicately over his skin. He hummed, tugging her closer and his chest was at peace once more.

“I love you too.”


	2. This Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen finds himself stuck in old habits and memories. He misses Claire and seeing her again brings everything up to the surface again. For both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m quite surprised with how well i put this week together. Also this sucks. Have fun.

_ _

_'Cause if the whole world was watching I'd still dance with you_

_Drive highways and byways to be there with you_

_Over and over the only truth_

_Everything comes back to you_

Owen woke up, the soft light of morning peering through his windows and he hummed, rolling over to kiss her forehead. Then he remembered. He turned back over, huffing into his pillow and clutching it tightly. He had to get out of bed. He had to stop this habit. Owen rolled out of bed, looking back at the blank space that rested beside him. He missed Claire there, waking up and kissing her sweetly. Owen missed her.

Walking into the bathroom, the smell of her lingered and had done for a long time. Vanilla. Beautifully elegant vanilla. The scent was sickening without her wearing it. Owen reminded himself every morning to use the other one. He did. Walking around his apartment was hazing; he went through the paces of it all. Taking each lazy step, he made breakfast, he watched tv, he went to work for a short time before coming home in the evening, going grocery shopping and ending his day with a sad pathetic dinner and sleeping alone.

Owen had only himself to blame for her leaving, for their break up. Having a few loose ends to tie up, he was rushing all over the country as he tried to sort out his job; trying to get out of it more like it. He didn’t hate his job, it just kept him from Claire. And that was the main issue. They never saw each other and they drifted. Owen’s heart lingered with every passing day, and he knew he loved her with everything he had, willing to give it to her at any given point. But she said she had enough and wanted out. Owen didn’t argue.

Friday nights were the easiest to get through; he could drink on Friday’s. Around their town, they had a local bar everyone went to and Friday nights were his nights from then on. Owen knew that Claire had left town after their break up and when Owen finally came home, their apartment looked so sad and lonely. He set up in his bed, and the habits of his old ways were still ingrained in him. He couldn’t fight them.

Walking home on Friday afternoon, groceries in hand when he saw the unmistakable flash of red hair. “Claire?” he muttered to himself. He gave a sharp sigh before shaking his head and continuing home. There is no way she would be back there. Making his way inside, he put everything away and started towards the bathroom, his mirror catching his attention. He looked like complete garbage, his hair messy and sticking in weird directions, his eyes tired and his face unshaven in days. The last time he looked that bad was in high school around when his father passed away. He remembered it all back then. Even when Claire went to the funeral with him.

_“Owen Grady,” Claire stated, leaned up against Owen’s locker before his neck class._

_“Claire Dearing,” he smiled. “Are you at my locker for a reason?” he asked, nudging her to the side. She cleared her throat, holding onto her books a little tighter._

_“I wanted to ask you something,” she stated proudly and as Owen closed his locker, she smiled. “Would you consider going out with me tomor -”_

_“Yes,” Owen immediately answered._

_“You didn’t let me finish,” she giggled and Owen shrugged._

_“I know but I wanna go out with you,” he smiled._

_“And you haven’t asked yet?” Claire stated._

_“Nervous,” Owen said timidly, scratched the back of his neck. Claire giggled again before nodding._

_“Okay, so, tomorrow night?” she asked and Owen smiled._

_“Tomorrow night.” Claire kissed his cheek sweet and quick and joined her group of friends. Owen knew he had a red rush burning across his cheek and nose. He was so excited for the date._

_Then the next came around, his nicest clothes on that still seemed casual, he walked down the stairs, keys twirling on his finger before his mother stopped him at the bottom. “You have to get and get your dad,” she ordered and Owen huffed._

_“Mom! I can’t, I’ve got a date,” he said._

_“Your father is in the station as always, just pick him up and we’ll sober him out for work tomorrow,” she explained and_

_“But Mom -”_

_“I’m sorry, Owen,” she shrugged and Owen groaned. He raced to the phone, dialling The Dearing’s number quickly. Then, on the other end of the phone, Karen, Claire’s sister, answered._

_“Karen, is Claire there?” Owen rushed._

_“She’s getting in her car,” Karen explained and Owen exhaled nicely._

_“Tell her I can’t make it...It’s a family thing and I’m sorry,” he reasoned and Karen huffed audibly on the other end._

_“She was really looking forward to tonight, Owen,” she complained and Owen felt the sting in his chest._

_“So was I,” he mumbled. “I have to go but pass on the message, please,” he said hurrying off the phone before heading out to the police station. There, he was met by an officer who had previously picked up his father. “How is he?” Owen asked, stepping into the station. They took him around, seeing his father sleeping on the bench he always called a bed every night._

_“When we brought him he, he was falling everywhere. He basically went to sleep after that,” an officer explained. Owen huffed, shaking the officer’s hand._

_“I’ll go get him,” he told him, walking into the cell. His father was laid out on the bench and Owen rolled his eyes. “Dad, c’mon, you’ve already ruined my night,” he persisted, pulling on his father’s arm with no reaction. Swallowing hard, Owen leaned down, slapping his father’s face gently with no response. Touching his fingers underneath his father’s nose, he felt nothing. “Someone call 911!” he shouted, the whole station erupting. That night was supposed to be the happiest of his life; it was the night his father died instead._

Owen woke up, noting the fact that he was in desperate need of more sleep. Checking his watch, he groaned. “Fuck, I’m late,” he muttered aloud, rushing around, fixing up his hair, grabbing his keys and rushing down the street to the bar. He opened the door and was greeted with cheers. He chuckled to himself before finding his spot at the bar and ordering his beer. Owen talked to Zara Young for a little while, making sure his set was going to be ready in about twenty minutes. Sometimes, Playing music was the only thing that made him happy.

Then, the bar went unusually quiet. Owen turned to the door, peeking over his shoulder. And there she was, beautifully different with flowing hair and her blue eyes that coursed like a river. Claire Dearing. A man came in behind her, touching the small of her back the way Owen used to. He turned back towards the bar, his head resting away from the crowd as he stared down the horizon of the bar. Then, the bar erupted into cheers, happiness being shouted at every angle and greeting Claire.

“Oh, Claire, when did you get back in?” Zara shouted.

“Jonathan wanted to see where I grew up and what better night than a friday,” Claire shouted back over the crowd. Owen threw glances back at them, watching the man take a seat as Claire moved towards the bar with Zara. Owen turned back around, ordering himself another beer. “Zara, how has Owen been?” Claire said suddenly and Owen felt his heart leap before it collapsed back down again.

“He’s been better,” Zara said a little softer and Owen perked up as a new bottle of beer was presented in front of him. He sipped at it, placing his money underneath the empty bottle beside his hand.

“Oh,” Claire muttered, walking carefully over to Owen, small and timid steps.

“Owen, you’re up next,” Zara called to him. He waved over his shoulder before jumping off the stool. Owen turned to Claire, taking in a tight breath and avoided looking directly at her.

“Owen,” she said, almost as a greeting. Owen edged around her.

“I’ve gotta go,” he mumbled and then her hand met his wrist. He stopped instantly at her touch and took in a breath, holding onto this moment as long as he could.  

“Owen, come on,” she tried to insist. Owen slipped his hand away from her.

“I’ve gotta perform,” he told her, not even looking at her, and it was killing him slowly. “enjoy your night,” he said before going to the little raised platform. Picking up the guitar, Owen tuned it as the bar settled down. Owen looked over to the bar, watching Zara and her father talking before he gestured up to Owen and she raced up. Zara’s father ran his cloth over the bar and smiled at Owen.

“So, as always, we are getting Owen up here to start our nights. After that, you can do what you want guys. So, over to Owen,” she announced and Owen nodded back. Starting to pluck the stings, Owen got straight into the rhythm of the song. Give Me Love. Owen had started to get play it some nights, but the bar was almost silent as he started, an edge he and Claire had created unintentionally. He sang the first verse, singing out to the crowd and trying to avoid the one person he wanted to.

_“Give a little time to me or burn this out,_

_We'll play hide and seek to turn this around,_

_All I want is the taste that your lips allow,_

_My, my, my, my, oh give me love,”_

He swallowed, taking in all the nerves and all the regret he had pent up for a year. Turning his gaze, he met her eyes and she suddenly took in a tight breath. Owen tore his eyes away but he couldn’t help it, they were always going to find her.

_“Give me love like never before,_

_'Cause lately I've been craving more,_

_And it's been a while but I still feel the same,_

_Maybe I should let you go,”_

His voice wavered on the last note and he swallowed it back as Claire’s brow was knitting, her breathing visibly shaken. Owen wasn’t making this easy for either of them, but he was singing and it meant something to them. They were two forces, always bound to each other but they always seemed to miss, never quite getting to where they want to be.

_“You know I'll fight my corner,_

_And that tonight I'll call ya,_

_After my blood is drowning in alcohol,_

_No, I just wanna hold ya.”_

Owen finally looked away, looking around the audience and noticing some of his friends with expressions of heartbreak, sadness or shock. This moment that Owen though he and Claire had shared, was being witnessed along with them with the rest of the town. This was Owen giving his confession that he would never stop loving Claire and she knew it, and now the town did too. Singing through the rest of the song, the chanting along with Owen became overwhelming; drunks and friends alike cheering the song, the music and everything else. Looking over to Claire, her hand was laid on her chest, breathing harsh and suddenly, she rushed out of the bar and past the other patrons.

_My, my, my, my, oh give me love._

Finishing the song, Owen set the guitar down, rushing off the stage and following Claire quickly. Everyone was cheering and clapping, still singing along drunkenly to Owen’s last string of words. Pushing through everyone and jetting out the door, Owen looked down each side of the road, watching was the glorious woman he let slip through his fingers once walk down the road.

“Timing was never my strong suit,” Owen called out down the road and Claire stopped, her arms holding her as the wind was picking up that night. Owen raced down the street, meeting Claire as she turned towards him.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” she sniffed, cleaning her face quickly. She was shaking and Owen took his jacket off, handing it over to her. She placed it around her shoulders and clutched to herself tightly. Owen huffed, sniffing and binding his hands tightly, making sure he wasn’t going to stop because he was afraid anymore.

“I’ve been madly in love with you for as long as I can remember,” he confessed, a smile forming and a soft chuckle emitting involuntary. “I’m not missing my chance to say it this time and letting you slip away,” he shook his head and Claire bit her lip.

“Owen, I have a -”

“I know, but please let me say this,” Owen interrupted. Claire nodded for him to continue, holding her lips tightly shut. “I would travel across the fucking planet to get to you if you needed me. I would pick you every time no matter the situation, I don’t give a shit what it is. I would enter dancing competitions and you know how terrible I am with keeping time,” he laughed and Claire gave a hearty giggle, sniffing and letting the tear pass down her cheek with no restraint. “I love the way you crinkle your nose the moment you wake up and the smell you left around the house. I miss you being around me because it was the only thing that made me happy,” he said finally, swallowing hard as his lip started to wobble. He was so weak and vulnerable, more than he had ever been, and could only be so with Claire.

“Owen,” Claire breathed, and the soft little drop of his name made his hope, made all his love go to waste in one name. “I missed you when you were here because your head was somewhere else. But looking at you now...you’re different and you don’t seem the same,” she rattled off before stopping herself and looking him up and down. “You’ve lost your glow,” she told him and he shook his head.

“I lost you,” he admitted softly. As Claire’s mouth dropped, so did her grip on his jacket, falling to the ground in a heap. She took two steps into him and was firmly against him, her lips latching onto his with desperation and want. Owen’s hands went to either side of her face, tears slipping down past his thumbs and he wiped them away fast. As quickly as they came together, their kiss lasted no more than a few seconds, lingering kisses placed over and over again. Then Claire stepped back, sniffing a little more.

“I should go back inside,” she told him and he nodded, rubbing at his nose and going to his jacket.

“I’m going to go home anyway,” he replied, pulling his jacket back over his shoulders. He held onto her hand for a moment before heading down the road Claire had walked and glanced back to see Claire going back to the bar.

“I’ll…” Claire called out and Owen turned, watching her at the bar door. “I’ll call you,” she said sweetly, moving inside the bar back to who she was with.

 

*~*~*

 

Owen hadn’t heard from Claire in a week, Friday seeming to last longer and the night drawing in. He decided against the bar this time. Instead, he went home, made his pathetic dinner and was laid up on his bed, watching reruns of shows he had seen hundreds of times. Then, his phone vibrated with a text. One single text. From Claire.

When Owen read the text, he swallowed, smiling to himself for a moment before he broke down and threw his phone hard against the wall. Tears flowed hard, his hands covering his face and the sobs unrestrained. How could he be so hopeful, so unfortunately bound to the hope he could win her over again. He was stupid and foolish for even giving it a second thought. He was just something she could use. He just needed to cry for this time.

Not sure how long his sob session lasted, but eventually, he took his feet from the bed, going over to his phone and seeing the cracks lining the touch screen. He hissed at his rage before bending and picking it up. Touching the home button, there read the message he wished he had never received.

_‘I need to see you. My fiance just left and I need you.”_

Then another text came through, just moments later, and he chuckled at the overreaction he had.

_‘Well, ex-fiance now.’_

_‘I bet you threw your phone after the first message. Sorry.’_

He texted back quickly.

_‘I’ll buy a new one. Meet me underneath the old oak.’_


	3. Love Me Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On leave, they thought they had more time. They don’t. So love is all they have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was a pain and I want to instill my hatred for parts of this fic. Also, Owen was heavily inspired by CP character in ‘Zero Dark Thirty’. It will probably make sense later. (p.s. i most likely got so many things incorrect cause I was struggling with this so much - so, i’m sorry) tbh - there are parts of this i want to continue, but if it’s better as a one shot, let me know.

 

_I don't know who's gonna kiss you when I'm gone_

_So I'm gonna love you now, like it's all I have_

_I know it'll kill me when it's over_

_I don't wanna think about it, I want you to love me now_

Claire wasn’t sure how to process the news, how she was meant to get through this. Owen was going to be gone. He was going on another tour ahead of schedule and he was leaving her for god knows how long. She felt her heart shatter in seconds as she stared at the man she loved, almost unmoved by his own confession. This was supposed to be a fun romantic night in a hotel room where they pampered themselves, instead, it felt like the rug was ripped out from under Claire’s feet. Then, it took no less than two seconds for him to crash into her, his lips locking to hers.

The tears rushed down her face unrestrained and flowing easily, Owen’s thumbs catching them with every move of his hand. Claire huffed, pushing him off of her, cursing him in the process. “No! Stop,” she yelled, sniffing, but the tears were still coming hard. “Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to make this seem like it’s worth celebrating?” Claire bellowed, her hand on her chest, her face feeling hot and flustered and she was unable to keep a solid breath without her voice whimpering.

“I’m not Claire,” Owen shouted back and Claire let out a shaken breath. “I’m not,” he said softly, his hands going to his hips and Claire took a sharp inhale. “I don’t know who’s going to kiss you when I’m gone. So what I’m going to do is love you with everything I have,” he said, stepping closer, catching the tear that dripped from Claire’s eyelash. He gave a weak smile, his hand on her waist as Claire was slight whimpering, her bottom lip still quivering.

“There’s going to be no one else,” Claire shook her head, sniffing and biting her lip, not meeting his eye; she was afraid she was going to start bawling all over again.

“I’m not going to ask you to wait,” Owen said, his hand slipping down to the base of her neck, hiding in the length of her hair.

“And I’m not taking it as a request. I’m waiting whether you want it or not,” she stated firmly, and Owen tilted her chin up, their eyes catching.

“I love you,” he replied and leaned down. Claire took a hard hold of his collar, urging her upwards and him down, colliding them in the exact way they wanted to be. Owen pulled her in around the waist, their bodies fitting together like they had needed each other to be whole again.

Owen took up Claire’s shirt, parting them for just a moment and throwing it across the room. Meeting back together, Claire fiddled with his belt, snaking it out of its loops and snapping it from Owen’s jeans. Bending slightly, Owen’s hand gripped onto the back of Claire’s knees and hitched her straight up into his arms. Forcing her back against the wall, Owen was using the friction to his advantage, rubbing himself against her core and having her crave him that much more. Her arm wrapped around the back of his neck.

She felt herself getting wet, soaking her underwear and most likely the front of his jeans too. Claire knew Owen was trying to get him to his point of best pleasure making, but he felt like he was already there, his thick length pressing hard against her and drawing definite lines in his jeans. With each whimper she thought she was making herself clear, making him know that she needed him more than ever. It was their last night. She needed him.

Claire bucked her hips against Owen’s and he groaned, encouraging her for more. Yet, she whimpered again when his lips met her neck. “Please, Owen, I need you now,” she insisted and it took nothing for Owen to bring them to the bed, hitting it with force and need. With a fire in his eyes, he took his hands to her hips, curling his fingers into the band of her jeans and taking them hard down her legs, along with her underwear.

Kissing up her things, Claire unclasped her bra, feeling Owen’s lips finally wrap around her sex. Gasping, Claire bound her hand in his hair. “That is lovely honey, but I need something more,” Claire complained, mainly because she wanted him inside of her.

“Never had you turn down oral before,” Owen said climbing up her body, tongue soon travelling from her navel in between her breasts. Claire tugged at his jeans before Owen finally decided to take them off along with his underwear.

“I’m in desperate need of your cock,” Claire said, strongly. Owen raised his eyebrows at her brass statement.

“Well, this is a new side to you,” he said, capturing her lips briefly, the taste of herself still stained on his lips.

“Might as well show you all of me before you’re gone,” she said, curling her arm around his neck again and Owen grunted, positioning himself and letting himself slide into her. Immediately, Claire was gasping and before she could moan harshly, Owen sealed her mouth with his. He kissed her over and over again, asking to remember this moment, this love. She wouldn’t forget it. Claire let her hips circle slowly every few thrusts, trying to gain friction against her clit.

Their bodies were curving and sliding against each other, working hard and finding exactly what they needed to find themselves at their ends. Moaning and sweating, they were the only ones to be able to reach this kind of ecstasy. With every thrust, Claire felt like he was getting deeper and making love to her better than anyone ever had. Owen kept their bodies together, friction and overwhelming depth were setting Claire to her edge. Owen was taking himself further and finally, Claire felt the edgings of it all.

Her orgasm was on its brink, building at the pit of her stomach easily. She felt adrenaline kick into her veins, and they were meeting each other so beautifully, Claire was unsure how she managed to stay together thus far. It only took a few more thrusts to have Claire throwing her head back into the bed, bellowing out a pleasure-filled scream and gasping for air. Owen didn’t stop, not for a second.

Lust and longing were building, and Claire felt like she was losing Owen straight after this was all done. She didn’t want that, not for a second. She begged her mind to come up with a solution, one that her body could never solve. Her mind was fragmented, Owen keeping her completely in his control, and then, her heart spoke, saying exactly what she wanted, what she needed for the longest time.

“Marry me,” Claire breathed against Owen’s shoulder. He slowed for a moment, but thrust into her again. He looked down at Claire with questions raised, showing upon his brow.

“Claire?” he asked, his hips moving into hers so perfectly, Claire was on edge. She clawed her nails into Owen’s back and another into the sheets.

“Oh, god, yes! Right there!” Claire bellowed and Owen hissed as she circled her hips.

“Oh, fuck,” Owen hissed, bringing himself into Claire with everything he had. Holding underneath Claire’s back, their bodies were barely apart, and Claire just wanted it to last for as long as possible. They held on, bodies aching and moving together so rapidly and yet so attuned to how long they each wanted it to last. Then, their bodies were failing, their climaxes reaching their peaks and Claire didn’t want to let him go. Her nails were ingrained in his back, and his breath heating up her neck. They weren’t letting go. Coils and the building in each of their bodies was high and Claire knew they had minutes.

Taking no more time, They kissed with passion and furiosity, hurting and lasting sensations as Claire felt her walls clamp and finally her orgasm broke. She bit down into Owen’s shoulder, moaning in the process. Owen grunted, stilling as he spilled inside of her and Claire rode them out of their orgasms, delicately rocking her hips, even after her exhausted body had given all it had. It was their moment, and they relished in it.

Kissing and sweet nips at each other’s skin, they were in love and loved every second they had together. This was their moment. Claire panted heavily, her hand running over Owen’s chest, fingers catching in his chest hair. Throughout all the bliss, all the love and care and devotion, there was always going to be a reason they did what they did; Owen was going to be gone, he was going to leave and she may never see him again. The risk was always there.

“Did you mean what you asked?” Owen sighed, and Claire shot him a look, scooting to a more comfortable position on her stomach.

“Huh?” she muttered, and Owen moved on top of her, kissing up the length of her back, his tongue running over skin, making her shiver.

“You asked me to marry you,” he said, not bashful or intimidated, just a simple question; did she mean what she asked.

“Oh,” she sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. She knew what she had said, wanting Owen to hear it too; she just never expected him too. She nodded. “Well, yeah, of course I meant it. I still mean it. I’m not letting you go just because you’re going off to fight,” she protested and Owen chuckled.

“I love you,” he exclaimed. Then, he launched from the bed, Claire looked over her shoulder before falling to her back. She watched Owen running around the hotel room, naked and overly excited. Claire laughed watching him rush and talk gibberish. He threw Claire's clothes at her, rushing himself into pants as he spoke. “What else do we need? Something blue and old? My blue shirt!” Claire shook her head, putting back on her bra and underwear.

“Owen! Stop!” she laughed. “I have something blue and old. But we -”

“Something new! What’s something new?” Owen proclaimed before Claire finally pulled Owen back down to the bed for a moment.

“No! We need two witnesses! We can get flowers or something, it’s okay!” Claire laughed, her hand on his cheek and smiling brightly. “I need to get a dress on. You go get ready,” she breathed nervously. She wasn’t scared that he’d back out, she was nervous that this wouldn’t work out, that they’d miss their chance, and she didn’t want that at all.

Going through her suitcase, she found the only white dress she packed. It was lucky that she was going to wear it to their dinner date the following night. The v-neck dress with a pleated design and a shimmering waistband kept her feeling elegant yet ready for something reckless and just perfect. Fixing her hair, Claire found the blue bow in her things, a ribbon Owen had gotten her that was tied to roses on one of their dates. She tied it in her hair, keeping the top layer out of her face, with strands framing her face. Stepping out and finding her heels, she didn’t notice at first the way Owen was staring at her. She smiled as she rose to meet his eye; he was dressed neatly in a suit, surprising Claire slightly.

“We’re doing this,” Owen breathed out, seeing Claire in her dress and she suddenly felt completely calm. She nodded to his statement. “We’re going to get married,” he said, almost trying to convince himself. Claire nodded, rushing to him and taking his hand.

“C’mon, Soldier,” she smiled. They were in the elevator, Owen’s leg jumping as he still held her hand.

“I called Lowery and Zara and they’re ready to come down,” he told her, his voice still remaining calm, but he was still overly excited by his uncontrollable leg movement.

“Did you text Karen?” Claire asked, tucking some hair behind her ear. In the elevator, they were both staring forward, their reflections printed on the metal of the doors. They looked happy and like it was meant to be forever. And to Claire, it was.

“Thought you’d want to call her with the news,” Owen replied, and Claire leaned into him slightly, groaning at the prospect of calling her sister with the news.

“She’s going to be so mad,” she complained and Owen laughed.

“Yeah, another reason I didn’t text,” he smiled down at her before kissing her crown. They got out of the hotel, Owen on his phone for a few moments as he hailed a cab. They jumped inside the first one, asking for the courthouse. Claire pulled out her phone, dialling Karen’s number and pursing her lips as she waited for her sister to pick up.

The argument started from there, Owen’s hand holding hers tightly. Karen was angrily stating that they needed to think about this, needed to stop and imagine who will be missing out. And Claire knew Karen wanted to be there and she wanted Claire to be happy, she was just sad she couldn’t be there.

“Yes, I understand this is sudden and ridiculous and I’m sorry you can’t be here but,” Claire explained, looking over to Owen who was still smiling from ear to ear; excitement was radiating off of him.

“You sound happy,” Karen sighed and Claire smiled.

“I am,” she replied. Then, there was a discouraged sigh, mixed with relief.

“I expect pictures. Tell Zara to get pictures,” Karen ordered and Claire took a mental note of it.

“I promise,” she said before they finally got to courthouse. Making their way up the steps, Claire was still holding Owen’s hand tightly. At the top, Lowery and Zara stood nicely, Zara with a bunch of flowers in her hand and Lowery showing Owen the wedding bands. They really got everything together on such short notice.

Claire took the flowers and then rushed inside. It was barely seven o’clock, things winding down for the day. They went inside, explained what they wanted to do, and the paperwork was all given to them after they paid. They waited for the judge to be ready for the ceremony.

“Really thought he was going to wear the uniform,” Lowery commented as they sat and waited.

“He didn’t bring it. His mom is bringing it to the airport tomorrow so he can wear it when he gets shipped off,” Claire explained, leaning across Owen.

“That’s kind of lame,” Lowery grumbled.

“I’m getting married to the hottest woman you’ve ever seen. I can do with a little lameness in my life,” Owen brought Claire into him, kissing her temple and she giggled as his hand slid up and down her arm.

Then, it was their turn. Owen and Claire stood in front of the judge in the courtroom. Lowery and Zara stood off to the side, taking pictures and making sure the video was taken for everyone who missed it. They traded their rings, simple gold bands that fit onto Owen’s finger yet loose on Claire’s. Owen made a comment of getting it resized when he’s gone. She told him to get her a better ring when he gets back and Owen sighed, almost as though he was looking forward to that day.

The ceremony was quite quick, getting through things easily enough and then the traditional stuff getting thrown in. Owen and Claire smiled the entire time, and Claire wasn’t sure how she managed to kept smiling, her cheeks aching. After Owen had said his parts, it was Claire’s turn, her excitement too much to bear.

“And do you -”

“I do,” Claire interrupted quickly and Owen laughed.

“Alright,” The judge shook his head before nodding to Owen. “You may kiss the bride,” Owen took no time in leaning into Claire and kissing her sweetly. She smiled into the kiss, his hands on her face and holding her tenderly. When they parted, Zara and Lowery hollered and cheered and Claire shook her head at it all. The judge called them over, urging their wedding certificate forward. “Now, sign here,” he told them, and both of them signed the document. “And the witnesses,” The judge said, Zara and Lowery coming forward and signing along with them. The judge looked at Owen and Claire and smiled at them. “You’re now officially, man and wife,” he smiled to them and Owen took her into his arms.

They celebrated with a quick drink with Lowery and Zara. It got to around nine and they all wanted to get out of there. Owen and Claire went back to the hotel room, kisses exchanged before they were bound in heated pleasure. Their last night together for god knows how long, their hands tied together with unmoving fingers. They were going to take everything they could from each because they didn’t know if they would ever get the experience again.

At the airport the next morning, Owen pinned in his uniform. There were tears shed and longing to stay, but the flight was called and Owen embraced his mother one last time. Then, he took Claire’s face into his hands and he kissed her with sorrow and longing in his lips. Claire cried, Owen wiping the tears away like he had found himself doing a lot lately. As they parted, Owen sniffed, holding onto Claire for a while longer before heading off. Claire stood with his mother, holding her hand for a while as Claire tried to stop crying. His mother fiddled with Claire’s ring, making it spin over her ring finger and smiling at Claire. They went and got it resized, and Claire told his mother what happened. His mother smiled through it all.

For over a year, Claire wondered what Owen was doing. She received letters, with staggered amounts of video chats. Then they stopped coming and Claire was scared she was going to get a man with a flag in his hands showing up at their house. All she could image was Owen sitting in the middle of gunfire, holding his gun and praying to be home, hoping that she hadn’t been unfaithful. She hadn’t. She gave her heart away long ago and she wasn’t going to give it to anyone else.

The waiting was the most torture. Just waiting for someone to come, for something to come. One day, a torn up and ridiculous looking letter arrived in Claire’s mailbox. Ripping it open on the steps of her home, she smiled and cried as she read it. The first three words had her going off like a fountain and she couldn’t have loved them more.  

‘I’m coming home’

And those three fucking words had her bawling. She was over the moon and her husband was finally back. When she got all the details, she couldn’t wait to get to the airport. Karen said she wanted to come, to keep Claire calm, but she didn’t need it. It felt the same as their wedding, she was nervous, but the thought of Owen kept her calm and kept her sane. She dressed in a dark navy wrap dress, the flowing fabric skimming her legs in the car ride there. Sitting and waiting felt like torture, watching every person walking in and wishing they were him.

Then, she saw the uniform and she launched from her chair. She made her way through the crowds, Owen finding her as she kept going. A clearing in the crowd came and they both bolted to each other. Claire jumped into his embrace, Owen holding on as tightly as he could and kissing her neck.

“Owen!” she squeaked and Owen chuckled.

“Claire,” he breathed, a relief of holding her that both of them shared. When Owen set her down on her feet again, her hand went to the side of his bearded face. His facial hair was thick and scruffy, but still so perfectly Owen.

“I told you, you’d be back!” she smiled and sighed as she took him in.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he said, leaning down and stealing a kiss for a moment. He parted for a moment, taking a chain from around his neck and there stood his wedding band. He took it off the chain before slipping it back onto his finger. Claire took in a tight breath again, biting at her lip.

“I need you in a hotel room immediately. A year and a half is too long to wait,” she whispered to him and Owen scoffed in surprise, holding onto her waist beautifully still.

“I’m still in uniform here, christ!” he whispered back and Claire giggled, kissing him quickly. God how she had missed him.


	4. Let Her Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letting her go seemed easy enough - letting her live her life. Yet, everything afterwards was the most painful feeling Owen had ever experienced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, this was late today because I forgot and I had two dogs running around and ruining shit, so i’m just a little all over the place today. But the fic is here. Enjoy.

 

_Well you only need the light when it's burning low_

_Only miss the sun when it starts to snow_

_Only know you love her when you let her go_

Panic and worry set into his veins. He shouldn’t have done that. He couldn’t call her and she wasn’t picking up anyway. Owen’s temper had always gotten him into trouble, but when it came to Claire, he knew to hold back. So, why didn’t he this time? Why did he have to get set off and yell and scream? He hated himself. He hated himself more for telling Claire to leave and never come back. He was an asshole. And he fucking hated himself.

_“Then what the fuck are you still doing here? If you don’t fucking care about me anymore, then leave!” he shouted and Claire breathed out harshly, her chest seeming to heave as she tried to breathe._

_“Fine!” Claire shouted back, taking her purse, stealing her jacket off the rack and slamming the front door behind her._

_His rage and anger had built up his walls once more and he was content with his anger. He took his seat on the couch, reclining into it for just a moment. Then, the rage and anger dwindled to nothing as his heart rate diminished. Regret had replaced everything within him. He launched from his chair, racing to the front door just to see Claire’s car jet down the street without hesitation. He didn’t blame her for not waiting, he would have left too. Owen cursed himself and went back inside, grabbing his phone and dialling Claire quickly._

_“Hey, you’ve reached Claire Dearing. I can’t pick up right now, so leave a message so I can get right back to you!” Claire’s voice chirped, the phone going straight to voicemail. Owen tutted before he rushed through what he wanted to say._

_“Claire? Please pick up. I don’t want to be that asshole that leaves a million voicemails sounding desperate and idiotic. I just need you to know that what I said was -”_

_“If you’re satisfied with your message, please press -”_

_“Fuck,” Owen cursed and threw his phone on the couch. Why was he like this? Why did he have to do this to them? Ruining everything when things felt good and things felt right. He was fucked up._

Four weeks. It felt like no time at all. She was gone, he was suffering, trudging through his boring as shit job. He was so far from what made him happy, he knew he had fucked up severely this time. He didn’t even realise how lucky he was until she was gone, officially _gone_ from his life. Claire’s presence was like the sun, beaming into his life to bring him hope, to bring him some form of future.

Owen had found himself, more often than not, staring up at the ceiling at night. The bed was a lonely place, once filled with love, affection, intoxicating togetherness, and he missed the way it felt like the safest place on earth. Now, it was a place he hated seeing bare. He missed Claire’s face leaning against his shoulder or her legs wrapping up in his. It was happy once. How slowly love can come into one’s life, yet slip away in an instant.

Sleeping was torture; a love he had felt for her was overwhelming, so his dreams were clouded with her. Claire slept beside him, laughing and giggling and the moment he reached out to hold her face in his palm, she was nothing by mist. He could never touch her again, that’s what he was reminding himself every night. Yet, every night, in a hundred different scenarios, he still tried to reach her, tried to feel her soft skin in his palm once more. Owen just wanted her back.

Walking to the bar, Owen took his spot on the stool, tapping the hard surface as the bartender came around. The man almost groaned as he saw Owen. Four weeks had some routine along with it. He got a beer and a whiskey along with it, just to wash it down. He knocked on the wood once more, the bartender rolling his eyes as he got Owen his whiskey, the bottle laid on the surface as it Owen’s to finish. He was slowly poisoning himself.

Owen wanted to blame his distant father for the way he lost Claire, no proper influence on how to love someone; but it was all him - his paranoia and his self-doubt led him to think he was alone when he had someone right beside him. Claire put up with so much, loved him when he was wrong and all the madness that was mixed in with everything. She was bliss and Owen missed her more than he ever expected.

Drinking helped him to forget the hurt he had caused most nights, remembering what he wanted to. He remembered all the things that made her the woman he loved, continuing to bring him to his knees whenever she looked at him. Every aspect he held close to his heart meant the world to him, meant everything to much he loved her. She was a physical beauty, but when it came down to it, the little actions, the heart she poured into everything, that’s what had him loving her the more.

Owen remembered the way in which Claire scrunched up her nose when she was frustrated. That perfect little nose that he loved from the moment he saw her; he could see himself kissing her, their noses passing as he tried to gain leverage. It was the way in which it lifted slightly, with a flat edge. Beautiful, endearing, and on her, powerful. It was this aspect of her that he loved, just the pure innocence of it, so defining the delicate and fragile side of her physically. Owen loved watching her drink coffee and find foam still on the little tip. He loved it when she dotted that little highlight of her makeup to the exact spot he kissed before they went to bed.

The blue eyes of hers, the complete pools that had him drowning whenever he stared into them, so much so that he lost his breath every time. She was intoxicating and dangerous all wrapped into one, and she knew it when she shot him those looks of seduction. Some days, they were calm skies, shimmering and sparkling with hope and happiness. Others, they were stormy seas, sacred to wade into, dangerous to fight again and worth drowning in. Those eyes had brought him to his knees hundreds of times.

Her blazing red hair, soft to the touch, hypnotic to the eye. It was fire in the morning light, bright and blinding. Owen found himself craving it whenever she was gone, just to feel it between his fingers. Once Claire suggested changing her hair to a dark brown or blonde and Owen playfully argued with her for an hour. He fell in love with that hair just the way he fell in love with Claire. It was long now, easy to play with. Owen liked to run his finger through it when they were both tired and relaxed in bed. Those long waves had a spark hidden within them, yet calmed Owen just the same.

An unexpected pleasure he took was in the way she laughed. It was uncontrollable and wild. She squeaked and giggled like a hyena, the most ridiculous laugh Owen had ever heard in his life. The first time he heard it, Claire was embarrassed and covered her mouth. He laughed at it, but not because it was crazy, because it was infectious, and slowly, Owen found himself wanting her to make it more often. He would tickle her, tell her terrible jokes and blow raspberries all over her, just to hear the unrestrained giggle and the animal call laugh she hated. Owen loved it even when she didn’t.

Waking up was Owen’s favourite part of the day, because he would always get up before Claire. Sleeping she was peaceful and curled up, sometimes even sprawled out across the bed and Owen himself. Yet, when she woke, she stretched, her eyes not even open yet, and her hand immediately searched for Owen. They would dance over his chest before they drew small patterns into his skin, a hum of trying to wake up echoed in her throat. When Owen would roll over, she would peek her eye open and he would kiss her nose as he did when they fell asleep. Claire would smile, crinkling the bridge of her nose before she kissed Owen back. She would move towards the bathroom and get on with her day, yet those mornings were pure and blissful, a small portion of Owen’s day spent in her embrace.

Claire was a goddess in motion. When she was out of her heels, her body relaxed and full of elegance. She would sway and move like didn’t have a care; that side of Claire was a side only Owen got to see. She was filled with something so powerful, a grace in relaxation and once more when she held herself highly. She was a magnet for a powerful stance without even trying. When she put on a pair of heels, she was higher, walked with a purpose and her hips swayed just enough to have Owen ready for anything she threw at him. Then, there were the more intimate times, where Owen remembered the way she moved on top of him or underneath him; her body under his control, the only time she would allow herself to be anyone’s. The way she moved was a miracle to witness.

Before Owen could even reminisce that much more, he heard someone clear their voice. In front of him, six glasses stood, empty with foam trickle to liquid at the bottle. Half the bottle of whiskey was gone and taken from Owen’s side. He had drunk his way into remembering Claire the way she was, never truly appreciating her until she was lost through his fingers. Looking up, Owen saw the bartender, looking worried and nervous for Owen’s wellbeing.

“Owen, man, you’ve gotta go home,” he said, cleaning the tabletop. Owen hadn’t realised how long he had been there. He wanted to stay. Laying down another bill, he ordered another beer.

“I’m paying, so give me more,” he slurred his words slightly.

“Whatever you’re looking for at the bottom of the glass, you’re not going to find it,” the bartender suggested and Owen took the beer from his hands.

“How the fuck would you know?” he mumbled, drinking some of the beer before laying his head on the tabletop. Claire was the only thing he wanted, wanted to feel, wanted to talk to. She was all he ever wanted or needed. Problematic, sure, but he needed her nonetheless.

The days where Owen was at his worst, his emotions so hard to handle, Claire would hold him. She would wrap her arms around from back, her face buried in his shoulder as she held onto him tightly. She would draw her finger over his heart, tracing ‘I love you’ with every sway of her finger. Owen would let out a sigh, taking her hand and kissing the inside of her palm. She calmed him with those moments, of just being held in her embrace. He would hurt to her, taking her into his arms and hold on like it was the last thing he would do. Somewhere along the way, he convinced himself that the last thing he may ever do was hold Claire, because letting her go was torture. Little did he know...

When Claire had her days, the exhausting ones where she couldn’t help but cry, Owen knew exactly the way to hold her, to have her relax and ease into him. He would lie on the couch, Claire would collapse down on top of him, both grunting at the impact. Then, his arms would curl around her, holding her in place and kiss her head, his hand running up and down her back reassuring her throughout it all. Claire would sob silently, never wanting to show the tears in her eyes, and Owen would never bring up the fact that she was crying, just hold her and tell her the days will be better as long as he held her at night. Sometimes, Owen thought he needed it more than she did, to hold her and make sure she knew he wasn’t going anyway. He was a fool.

The days where she got mad, frustrated and irritated by the very thought of him. He would never hate her for the things she said, he would never raise his voice as he tried to defend himself; he would simple talk to her, ask her what he did. He knew he couldn’t argue with her, couldn’t fight with her without losing her. Until he forgot that losing her was still a possibility. He forgot that she could very well leave without a second thought to it. And that’s exactly what happened. He was left with nothing but the rage they both built and the regret that could never be healed.

And all those memories from moments before were washed away by the tears that had sprinkled at the edges of Claire’s eyes that he missed the first time around. He remembered the trembling of her bottom lip as he told her to leave. He remembered the quiver in her voice as she tried to yell back. He remembered her shaking hands as she grabbed her things and the small turn over her shoulder before she slammed the door. He remembered the way she moved this time, the way she moved away from him, the smallest and silentest part of his brain demanding him to stop being a fool. He had suffocated it with his rage. And then the rage went, the voice shouted and regret took its hold so easily. Love can be lost so quickly.

A hand fell to his shoulder and he jolted up in surprise. He met their gaze and found Claire standing there. It couldn’t be real. It had to be someone else, his drunk mind was just confusing him. It couldn’t be her. Claire stood by his side, shrinking down as she place his arm over her shoulder. “C’mon big guy,” she said. It was her voice, but he wasn’t sure what was going on. He fell off the stool and Claire caught him, helping him walk away from the bar.

“Claire?” he mumbled and she nodded, hitching him up and pushing the bar’s door open and walking to her car. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Taking you home,” she replied. Owen shook his head, maybe that would snap him out of it. It was still her.

“How did you -”

“The bartender called me. He didn’t know we split,” she said, and that’s how he knew it was Claire. Owen hated the fact that he was being this way and that Claire had to come and get him. He fell into the car, curling to the side of the door, closing his eyes as to stop himself from wondering what Claire was doing, if she was looking at him at all. He couldn’t get his damn hopes up like every other day.

At home, he took his own pace inside, Claire following behind as he tried to search for his keys. She came up behind him, taking her hand into his pocket before he slammed his back to the door. “I can get my keys,” he mumbled before Claire rose her hand, showing off his key around her index finger.

“Yeah,” she raised her brow and Owen rolled his eyes, leaning against the frame and watching Claire open the door. Suddenly, he felt off balance and fell inside, skimming on his knees. Claire came up behind him, picking him up from the floor and put his arm over her shoulder. “Okay, honey, let’s just get you to bed,” she groaned, picking him up and struggling to get him to his bed. He felt so drained, like everything in his body had flatlined but he was still there.

Finally, she managed to tuck him into bed, not until after he threw his shirt across the room and kicked off his pants. She tucked him into bed, leaving an aspirin and a glass of water at his bedside. She ran her hand over his face as he laid on his pillow. Then, as he felt her slipping away, his instant was to reach out. This time, he caught her.

“Don’t go,” he mumbled. Then, as it had always been for four weeks, regret set in. He buried his face into his pillow before let go of Claire’s hand. He looked back at her. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Go if you want. I’m such a mess,” he said, shutting his eyes as he felt ill.

“Don’t say that,” Claire said, sitting down on the bed and holding tightly to his hand. His thumb instinctively rubbed against the back of her hand.

“Why not? Look at me? I’m a joke. Getting drunk because I fucked up the only good thing going on in my life? It counts as messy behaviour,” he muttered, laughing a little at his drunk self.

“Yeah, but you’re still you and you’re wonderful,” she said, her voice sweet without a lie written into her words. Owen pulled back his hand, rolling over and pulling his blankets around him.

“You can go, Claire. There’s nothing holding you back anymore,” he said, and without even a second of realising it, he was in his sleep.

Waking up, he felt the need to go and check if Claire was still around. He wondered as his eyes were still closed if she was in the guest bedroom or on the couch. When his eyes finally opened, he was surprised to see her lazily stretching beside him, waking the beautiful way she had done hundreds of times before. She smiled at him and there was an awkwardness that surrounded them, their routine foiled by where they both stood in this relationship.

“What are you still doing here?” Owen asked in a husky voice. He sat up slowly, grabbing for the aspirin and water. He downed them quickly, resting his arms on his knees and his head hanging low to stop from spinning.

“I wasn’t going to leave when you were that drunk,” Claire said, sitting up beside him, stroking his arm.

“I’ll be fine. I’m sorry if I ruined your night,” he apologised and Claire suddenly squeezed his arm.

“You didn’t. I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding your calls. If I’d have known -”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” he interrupted, looking over to her. He felt his eyes sting. “Claire, I fucked up. And you shouldn’t have to deal with me, I’m sorry,” he said once more and before he knew it, Claire’s hands were either side of his face, making sure he was looking directly at her and never taking his eyes from her. She wanted to make sure he knew she meant what she was saying. He would believe her.

“I’m not going to walk again. You can yell and scream and ask me to leave again, but I’m not leaving you,” she demanded, and as the first tear fell down his face, she urged it away, holding his face delicately in hand. “You have never held me back. You push me. And you’re the love of my life. I shouldn’t have left in the first place,” she said, and suddenly, there was a touch lump at the back of Owen’s throat. He brought Claire in closely, holding onto her with everything he had. And then he started to sob, not for a moment caring that he may have seemed weak; he was without her.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he said, over and over. He was crying heavily as he held her, Claire holding onto him tenderly and tracing her finger on his bare back. ‘I love you’ written and Owen sobbed harder.

“It’s okay, I love you,” she said. “We’ll get through this.”


	5. Body Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire hadn’t felt like her body couldn’t give everything she needed it to in these kind of situations - that was until Owen decided he wanted her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was favourite to write. Have fun.

_ _

_ If my body had a say, I wouldn't turn away _

_ Touch, make love, taste you _

_ If my body told the truth, baby I would do _

_ Just what I want to _

Wandering backwards, Claire felt like she was in a daze, the only thing certain was Owen’s hands roaming her body as they kissed. For months, she thought that the flirting with him was harmless. And when she looked into herself, she never expected things to end up this way. She had talked herself up so much, she hadn’t realised she couldn’t flirt her way out of her cockiness. Owen asked her out for drinks, she tried to decline, but the way he flirted with her, god, it was intense and intoxicating. She couldn’t say no. 

The date went fine, they had a nice enough time together, but oddly, it didn’t lead anywhere. It wasn’t until the Jurassic World Gala for all employees that had them in this mess. Claire was wrapped tightly in a navy blue dress, hugging at her curves with the way it fell. With a v plunging bardot dress, it wasn’t hard for her to look flawless. Her hair draped over one of her shoulders, curled and elegant. Walking into the event, she felt happy to be there, a time without stress but she knew there would be hounded if there were any investors at this gala. 

Walking, she let the flared out bottom of her dress stretch making her way further into the gala area. She greeted a few different people before she spotted Owen across the room. He was fixed in a grey suit, dark maroon tie to break up against his white shirt. He fiddled with his cuff before he spotted her as well. He gave a cocky smirk before he started to round the room. Claire excused herself before walking parallel with him. Finally coming together, Claire sighed, almost in relief as she took him in. 

“So, you clean up nicely,” she smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. Owen looked down at himself, straightening his tie slightly and smirking back to Claire.

“Who said I couldn’t?” he shrugged and Claire bit at the inside of her lip. 

“I just thought you liked things a little dirtier,” Claire replied and suddenly, Owen closed most of the distance, his body invading her space easily and confidently. He was testing her so much, she wasn’t sure if he knew how much he could have her in that moment alone.

“Oh, trust me, I do,” he said, his voice rumbling. Claire’s hand was ready to reach out to Owen when a voice hollered over everyone and Claire and Owen snapped their attention to the person.

“Ms Dearing! Just the woman I wanted to see!” It was an investor who had always asked far too many questions. He was short and round, a very odd man but he contributed a fair amount to Jurassic World, so she wasn’t allowed to complain. 

“Another time then,” Owen whispered, his lips skimming her ear as he spoke. She inhaled sharply and watched Owen walk away. God, how she wished she could go after him and just have fun. Instead, the stout investor came waddling up and took Claire to sit down and chat. 

The conversation seemed to last for hours, yet when Claire checked, it had only been twenty-five minutes. Twenty-five minutes?! She was shocked and would either need alcohol or air. She decided on the latter, making note of the fact that she can get more drunk later as the night went on. Excusing herself quickly, she walked outside, 

“Running off so soon?” Owen’s voice rang behind her. Claire turned, smiling at him and walking to him without another thought. Claire took slow steps as she walked towards him, his stance confident and his hands finding his pockets easily. 

“Some air would be great right about now,” she explained, tucking her hands behind her back and letting her hands rubs nervously. Flirting wasn’t always her strong suit, so she had never known if she was being too forward or not forward enough; the fine line to walk for getting laid. 

“Are you sure that’s all you want?” he asked, smirking and Claire gave a vague shrug. 

“I could go for something else,” she fluttered her eyelashes. Suddenly, there was a fire behind Owen’s eyes, sparking and he was off. He stepped towards her, closing the distance.

“Good. ‘Cause I’ve waited too long already,” he said in a baritone voice, before his hands guided up her cheeks and his lips collided with her own. Claire gripped hard into his jacket as her other hand held his wrist. They wandered back into the darkness, fixing a spot against the outside wall before they both heard a group of people talking. They broke apart and Claire fixed up the edges of her lips. 

“We should get out of here,” she told Owen. His attention snapped to hers, almost as though he didn’t expect her to suggest it. Claire tucked her hair behind her ear again and began walking back to her apartment on the island. It wasn’t that far, but Owen and Claire stayed silent, almost like they didn’t want to ruin anything by speaking. 

Making their way past the main complex, her apartment stood waiting. Taking the key from inside the pot plant, Claire unlocked the door and turned to Owen, smiling. Before she knew it, Owen was locking his lips with hers, his hands wild and feeling over every curve he could. And there they were, bound together as they stumbled into her apartment, barely thinking and letting their bodies do all the talking. Claire guided them to her bedroom, almost as though it was against her own will. 

Wrenching the jacket from Owen’s shoulders, Claire soon tugged on his tie, begging for it to come loose. It swiftly came undone and she struggled with the buttons on his shirt. His hands went up her back, his finger touching her spine before trailing down and taking the zipper, making it travel down slowly. Owen moved his lips down her neck, catching a sensitive spot between his teeth and Claire gasped suddenly. As the zipper reached its end, the dress slipped past her figure and down onto the floor. Owen stepped back, his absence leaving her feeling bare. She stood in her heels and black lace underwear, a strapless lace bra she had worn to fit with the dress. Owen sighed as he took her in. 

“I’m not going to lie, I’ve wanted to see the whole package for a while now,” he said honestly and Claire smirked, pulling hard on his waistband.

“The feeling is mutual,” she said, their lips colliding as Claire tore the belt from it’s hoops and undoing the front of Owen’s pants. He chuckled at her eagerness as he suddenly stopped kissing her. It seemed to dawn on both of them at the same time. Claire laid a finger to his lips before rushing to her nightstand, going through the draw and finding the condom she knew was in there. When Claire turned around, Owen was already on her, pulling her off her feet and up against the wall. 

Claire’s legs wrapped around Owen, his breathing centred on the middle of her chest as he concentrated on his cock. He pulled himself free from his boxers, ripping the wrapper with his teeth as Claire kissed along his neck, waiting patiently to feel him inside of her. Owen’s hips were moving back and forth, his cock rubbing over her underwear and it was then when Claire wanted him to rip them off so she could finally just feel him. Then, as the condom rolled on, Owen urged her underwear to the side, his fingers rubbing the lace gently over her clit, making her wet and ready for him. She pulled on the back of his hair, whimpering and moaning as the sensations were directed solely to her. 

Then, he moved inside of her. Gasping, Claire tightly bound her fist in his hair. “Shit!” she cursed, rolling her hips on his. Owen was working hard, pushing himself against Claire with hard thrusts up into her. She wasn’t sure how long she’d last without screaming. Owen pinned her arms above her head, kissing her intensely and his hand gripping hard against her wrist as things were heating up. Claire whimpered before throwing her head back and moaning loudly, over and over as his thrusts became more frequent.

Claire felt like her brain was a whirlwind, a mess of different thoughts and letting herself indulge in sex for the first time in a long time. She felt his cock inside of her, sliding in and thrusting hard into her with the intensity she wanted it to. She felt Owen’s teeth nip at her lips, his tongue dancing against hers and every few moments, his hot breath seeping past her cheek and panting radiating from his chest. It was one sensation after the other, fucking like she couldn’t have another night with anyone else again. 

There was also a part of her that was overestimating this interaction; Claire had been flirting with Owen for heaven knows how long and she did it because she was attracted to Owen, because she liked him. She was scared that she might come to her climax and admit things she shouldn’t. But no, all that was filling the room were her screams and begs for more. And Owen was complying so willingly. 

Claire began panting when her orgasm was on its brink. It was tingling in her toes, the heat rising and waves of anticipation hitting her with every thrust and skip of her heart. Hery body was on edge, begging and pleading for a release, but Owen was holding back, his pace slowly to a painful speed and Claire just wanted her climax. She squeaked his name, panting in his ear and he gave one last hard thrust into her and her orgasm was there. Claire’s thighs tightened around his sides and she felt herself clutching onto him harder than before. 

“God, you’re perfect,” Owen whispered against her neck, his voice low and thrilling her to the bone. Owen ran his hands up her back, holding her in place and taking her to the bed. He slipped out of her as Claire was lying on the bed, content with her first orgasm but knew she was going to get more. Owen shifted away from her, grabbing onto the band of her underwear and sliding down her legs. Owen peppered kisses over her thighs and down her legs, slipping off her heels then slowly spreading her legs. 

With his face right in front of her sex, Claire bit at her lip, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for his mouth to finally taste her. Then, a tentative tongue ran over her, the last moment spent touching her slit. Claire hissed in pleasure, binding her hands in her bedsheets, her brow knitting in need. Then, Owen took a hard grip on the outside of her thighs, making himself comfortable between her legs. 

His mouth fit around her sex, licking and letting his tongue roam over her with purpose. Claire felt like she was going to go insane with the pleasure, her entire body feeling like it was electric. She felt tender, but Owen was working his mouth to a rhythm, flicking his tongue over her clit and moaning over her. In reality, Owen was sending her over the edge with the best of his ability and he was doing faster than anyone else had ever done before. It took like no time at all to have Claire shouting his name, begging him to hurry up, just to get her off so she can feel him inside of her without her whole body crushing underneath his power. Cumming felt like a wonder, bliss running through every cell until Claire felt like she couldn’t see straight unless Owen was inside her again, setting her straight. 

Moving up the bed, Owen trailed kisses up Claire’s body, his hands slowly snaking to undo her bra and toss it to the side of the room. Claire watched as Owen’s hands covered her breasts completely; how large they were and she couldn’t help but bite her lip. His fingers moved, running over her nipples, just enticing them with a response and Owen smirked as he kissed along her breast. “How badly do you want more?” he asked. Claire whined, pulling on the back of his neck. 

“Badly, baby,” she muttered, making sure their lips found each other easily. They were moving against each other, fighting for dominance in one kiss and barely leaving space to breathe. Feeling his tip run over her delicately, he pushed into her. Claire moaned into Owen’s mouth, circling her hips as best she could as Owen used his hips to the best use they could do. He curled his arms around her, keeping them constantly bound and never being able to part. If they were going to fuck, they were going to do it for as long as they could both could last. 

It was odd, this new feeling, her body was ready to cum, was ready to let go and have the rolling of orgasms coming, yet, she felt so broken. She wanted to keep going, her body reacted to Owen’s like no one else ever could, and she wanted him to please her in every way possible, but she was so breakable, she wasn’t sure she was going to get through this. Without any warning, her next climax was rising, Owen panting in between every kiss; their ends were close, but Claire’s was at its tipping point. One more thrust was all it took to have Claire crying out in pleasure, latching her hand into his back and scraping down when she couldn’t hold on anymore. She was panting over his shoulder, her whole body finally gone and unable to continue. 

“I’m out, Owen, I’m sorry,” Claire panted, pushing on Owen’s chest and his brow furrowed as he looked down at her. 

“Woah, that easy to wear you out?” he asked, laughing a little. 

“You’re good at fucking, what can I say?” Claire muttered, watching Owen fall to her side. His erection was hard still, tempting and his hand stroked it. He wasn’t going to die from not getting off, but Claire couldn’t very well leave their first sexual encounter without him cumming the hardest he ever had. She was going to make it her mission to be everything she ever wanted to be in the bedroom. Jolting upwards, Claire moved Owen’s hand and sat up on top of his lap. She positioned him inside of her again, biting onto her lip as she found the right position for them both.

“I thought you said you couldn’t take it anymore,” he muttered, tucking his hands behind his head as Claire wiggled a little. 

“You’re going to break before I do, Grady,” Claire said, hissing slightly as she took a stride and Owen’s hands bound to her hips. 

“Fuck,” he swore quickly, throwing his head back. She was already working magic, and she was going to get them both off in no time at all. Rocking back and forth on his lap, Claire’s head fell back, her small little moan fixing her point of no return.

Claire leaned back, her hands just above his knees as she leaned back, one of Owen’s hands reaching up and squeezing her breast. She bit her lip, his touch crazy and yet it didn’t feel brutal or painful; no matter what he did, no matter the tenderness of everything, he could always evoke pleasure. How the hell could he even fucking do that? 

Stride after stride, Claire and Owen were both moaning and breathing harshly, begging each other for their final moments. Owen suddenly shot up, pulling Claire closer and thrusting into her when he could. He kissed her lips, trailing to her chest and neck and back to her lips. They were sweating, and panting and moaning like it was some fucking porno, but God, was it everything Claire needed in her life. 

Owen was grunting harder, Claire unsure of where her mind was, but the pleasure that was building at her core, tender and fragile, was ready to come and so was Claire at this point. Pulling Owen in one last time, she ground down hard on his lap, burying his cock as much as she could and then, her orgasm broke. She threw her head back as Owen still underneath her. There were small little whimpers, whining cries as they radiated from Claire, groans and moans echoing back to her from Owen. They fell apart, trying to breath and to cool off; Owen found the trash and put the used condom away. 

Both lying down, trying to breathe and finally take it all in. Claire and Owen looked at each other before they both started to laugh. That just happened. They literally had sex and for Claire, it was mind-blowing. He rocked her to her core and she felt like she was in heaven. 

“So, how exhausted are you?” Claire said, panting and fixing herself next to Owen. His breathing was wild erratic, just like hers. 

“I should be asking you that,” Owen scoffed.

“I will not be able to walk for a while,” Claire admitted, looking over to Owen and chuckling along with him.

“Glad I did my service,” he said, laughing and laying a hand to his stomach. 

“You know, you kind of saved me tonight,” Claire said, staring up at the ceiling. 

“How so?” he asked, nudging closer to her. 

“I really didn’t want to talk to those investors, I always forget their names,” she smirked and Owen kissed her shoulder. 

“I can always be your fun alternative,” he whispered against her skin. Looking over to him, she rolled to her side.

“Oh, trust me, if I could take it, I would definitely be fucking you again,” she raised her eyebrows suggestively and Owen slipped his arm around Claire’s back, pulling her into him. 

“I did wear you out, didn’t I?” he smirked.

“Shut up,” Claire giggled, pushing against his chest. His nose nudged against hers. 

“Can’t stop me,” he teased. 

“You sure about that?” she said softly, capturing his lips. Owen tossed himself onto his back, Claire laying on his chest and it felt so right. Even with a body aching and sore, she knew she gave everything to him, more than what she could, and relished in the sensations Owen sent over her. 


	6. Let's Hurt Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is hard and they needed to work through this - otherwise, it would be the end of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the reason I started this fic week, not gonna lie. Have fun.

_ _

_I'll hit the lights and you lock the doors_

_Tell me all of the things that you couldn't before_

_Don't walk away, don't roll your eyes_

_They say love is pain, well darling, let's hurt tonight_

Pain. It was rough, and they both knew it. It was going to be the toughest thing they’ll ever do. And it might one of the last things they would ever do together. Owen was sitting on the couch, guitar in hand as he strummed out a tune he occasionally liked to play. Things were off, they had been for some time. Then, she came through the door, worn to the bone. Claire was fragile and tired, kicking off her heels and making sure the door was locked before walking into the kitchen. Owen stayed on the couch, placing the guitar down and away from himself, leaning against his knees.

As he sighed, Claire put down her glass, untying her hair and walking around the island bench. Things hadn’t been good for some time. It was Owen’s fault, he knew it was, and Claire had known it for as long as he had. Claire stood beside the couch as Owen stood; he wanted to avoid this, avoid this conversation because it was the hardest one they would ever have. He didn’t want to tell her what he had done. “That’s enough, Owen,” Claire sighed, her hands on her hips, her confidence switching between strong and failing.

“Of what?” he sighed, a tight-lipped response. Claire sighed, her hand bound then she covered her face, groaning into her hands.

“Cut the crap! I’m done living like this! Hating myself and not knowing what I’ve done wrong! You’re killing me and I don’t understand,” she shouted and Owen’s brow knitted.

“What are you talking about?” he asked strongly.

“Owen, look at me! I’m falling apart without you and you keep pushing me away! I want to love you but this isn’t working and I don’t understand what happened! We were so in love!” Claire shouted,

“We are!”

“Then why does it feel like I’m living with a stranger?” she shouted and Owen chewed on the inside of his lip. His hands were tight and so was his chest. Anger was building like a furnace raging. He either had to leave or cool down; this wasn’t going to be pretty. Than, as Owen stood idly by, just angry and tempted to just leave, Claire took a book from the coffee table and threw it at Owen. “Who the hell are you now?” she screamed and Owen was ashamed of the shouting he erupted into.

It just felt like yelling. Shouts being thrown back and forth. Owen wasn’t going to antagonise her, there was no point - she hadn’t done anything wrong. It was all him and she deserved to go insane. He defended, asking why she was mad and she would groan, throw more things. Owen would shout at how this was stupid and Claire held back the tears in her eyes; she was getting upset with him, and all the rage that was building was shameful to even think about. Owen felt dazed when calming. He was fucking this up and he didn’t even mean to.

“Owen, we can’t avoid this anymore,” Claire huffed, her hand running over her forehead.

“Avoid what?” Owen questioned and Claire looked up to him, breathing harshly as she stared at him confusingly.

“We have to talk,” she explained angrily.

“About what?” he shrugged and Claire groaned.

“About us! God, are you fucking blind?” she exclaimed and chewed on the inside of his lip.

“Fine, let’s talk,” he shrugged again, hands on his hips as Claire sighed and began pacing back and forth.

“I can’t do this anymore. The no talking,” she explained, but her frustration was coming out, her hands moving wildly as her frustration and annoyance grew with him. “I come home and we don’t talk. You come home and we don’t _talk_. I feel like living with a brick wall. Why can’t we just talk like we used to. You keep shutting me out and I’m sick of it,” she said, huffing as she tried to calm down, the tears at the edges of her eyes as she looked at him. Owen didn’t reply. He was making the issue worse. He still didn’t say anything. “You’re doing it again! God, Owen, just talk to me,” she yelled, spooking Owen and he swallowed hard. He had to think of something and he had to say something.

“Maybe it’s because you’re so busy. We just can’t talk anymore after you got your new job,” he breathed out, Claire’s brow knitting and she was annoyed with him now.

“I got promoted,” she cursed.

“Yeah. And that’s great. But I get left here in the dark because I don’t know when you’re not busy when you get home. You are constantly working,” Owen tried to explain everything, but he wasn’t doing a very good job. He was either going to have to confess everything or lie his way through this conversation. Either way, things were going to be different. And it may just end them. Claire shook her head, trying to step towards him. Owen stepped back.

“Well you should have brought this up. I can make time -”

“Where? You’re like a fucking CEO. You’re busy constantly, I can’t interrupt that!” he exclaimed.

“Then why don’t you sleep next to me anymore? I wake up in the morning and it looks like you haven’t even slept in the bed! I find you in the guest room more often than I do in any other part of this apartment!” Claire interrupted, changing the topic from one painful thing to another. Owen didn’t want to say what it was. But he was reaching his limits. She was going to figure it out, or she was going to leave. It was just going to be torture them. Owen shifted, binding his hand before letting it go loose.

“I just can’t sleep in the bed anymore,” Owen lied.

“Not to mention that you don’t tell me about anything. You’re secretive about the most harmless things. I can’t even call out your name without you knocking things over! You’re hiding something from me and it’s killing me,” Claire rattled off another list of things he was doing wrong. She had noticed it all. He should tell her. He shouldn’t hide it anymore. But he didn’t want to - no, he couldn’t do that to her.

“Things have been tough, Claire, I don’t know how else to put it,” he tried to explain but Claire shook her head defiantly.

“You can’t just shut me out when things get tough! I’m your girlfriend, I’m supposed to mean something to you,” Claire broke, the tears rushing down her face and Owen hated himself.

“You do,” Owen said tenderly, stepping forward. Claire stepped back this time.

“Oh yeah, so who’s the girl you’ve been seeing?” she said bluntly and Owen’s face dropped. He didn’t even know how to respond. What was he going to say? He couldn’t lie again, she would see right through him and he couldn’t take seeing her like this. Tears were staining her beautiful face, and it was all his fault; he made her feel like this. “And don’t give me some lame excuse, I know you’ve been seeing someone else,”

“Claire, I -”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” she cursed, binding her hands tightly. And it all came down to this, a moment where he could lie one more time, draw her further from his arms or have her look at him differently. He felt like he had lost her. He didn’t want to lose the love of his life. He couldn’t handle this all without her. He combed his fingers through his hair, binding in tightly at the back before his whole body relaxed, caving under the pressure.

“I’m having PTSD symptoms again,” he told her gently. Claire blinked, stepping back and holding onto her stomach.

“What?” she said breathlessly.

“Do you remember that day about three months ago where I wasn’t...there?” he asked and Claire nodded.

“Yeah, of course,” she replied, swallowing hard.

“I had an episode,” he said, his jaw tightening as the memory of the episode came back to him.

_Everything felt tilted, something wasn’t quite right and Owen looked down at his hands. He couldn’t feel them, couldn’t feel his feet either. Was he even there? What was going on? He knew what was going on, but things were fuzzy. But they weren’t. His mind was fractured. This was all his fault, he should have been where -_

_“Owen?” Claire’s voice rang, gripping into his hand and Owen snapped back into reality, tearing his hand away from hers. Too pure to touch, she was everything and he was nothing. He couldn’t let her touch him again. “Hey, babe, are you okay?” she asked, concern written all over her face._

_“Yeah, what’s up?” he asked, his voice feeling like it was going to crack if he spoke any longer._

_“I’ve been talking to you for the last twenty minutes. Have you been listening?” she asked, not irritated or upset, just worried._

_“Yeah, sorry. No, I-I…No, I wasn’t. I-I’m sorry. I..uh - no, I just,” he stumbled, stuttering and trying to find himself. He couldn’t._

_“Are you okay?” she asked once more, her hand lying on his cheek and he jumped up. Too pure._

_“Fine,” he cleared his throat. He started towards the front door. “I’m going to go for a walk,” he stated, grabbing his jacket with a shaking hand and tucking it out of sight quickly, he didn't want to worry Claire. He took his keys and left his phone sitting on the coffee table._

_“Babe, is everything alright?” Claire asked once more as Owen opened the front door. He turned to her, a weak smile on his lips._

_“It’s fine. I just...I just...I need a minute,” he explained. “I’ll be back soon, Claire,”  he told her, closing the door behind him. Panic attack, he was having a panic attack as soon as the door closed. He left his hand on the left wall, helping him to stay upright and with it. He made it downstairs, around the corner, to the park and then finally he sat on a bench. He threw up between his legs, his right leg shaking. Words, he needed to calm down. Words. What were his words._

_“Dawn. Aurora. Daybreak. Twilight. Dusk. Midnight. Dawn. Aurora. Daybreak. Twilight. Dusk. Midnight,” he repeated, over and over again. But it was useless. “Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth. He covered his mouth, tears running down his face as he tried to breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe? He was hyperventilating, begging for something to come and save him, begging to be rid of the pain and the memories. Owen stayed there for hours, rocking back and forth and repeating the words to himself with no luck and just a racing heart. He was a shattered mess of who he once was. He had come so far, now he was back to a broken shell._

“I can’t remember what set me off, but I had a flashback and it really fucked me up. I tried my words to get me to calm down, but I just felt numb,” he explained and Claire bit onto her lip nervously. “From then on, I hid it from you because of your -”

“The promotion,” she realised and Owen nodded, guilt racking his bones.

“When you were gone, it was the toughest time. Working felt exhausting even when it wasn’t. I couldn’t talk to anyone at work and talking to you felt like I was putting pressure on you. I didn’t know what else to do, especially when my anxiety was getting worse,” he sighed. “So I went to a doctor.”

“That’s who -”

“Yeah,” he replied quickly.

“The sleeping?” she asked, moving towards him with a solid bite to her lip.

“I got violent sometimes before I met you. I didn’t think it was safe if I slept in the same bed if it was getting worse,” he said, rubbing at the inside of his hand.

“Jitters?” she asked, his suspicious behaviour becoming more apparent.

“Yeah. Things just spooked me a lot more,” he nodded.

“What were your bad days?” she asked suddenly.

“Every day. Sometimes when I would leave really mad, I would be having a ‘red alert’ and I never wanted to take it out on you. Sometimes when I said I was going to the bar, I would go to where we first met,” he admitted, avoiding her eye as he felt the lump at the back of his throat.

“Why?” Claire gently urged and Owen’s felt the tears break past his eyes.

“Because it was hard to remember what it felt like to love you,” his voice broke as he looked up at her, the tear running down his face. He ran his hands over his face, cleaning his face as he cleared his throat. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me but those times I couldn’t remember how to feel that and I was ashamed and I hated myself. You deserve someone who loves you and I can’t do that,” he confessed before he let out a soft cry.

“No, you don’t get to pull that card Owen Grady!” she said harshly, stepping into him and her hands were firmly on either side of his face, not letting him slip or let his eyes navigate away from hers. “No, you’ve got me whether you like it or not. We’re going to get through this. You’ll have bad days, and I’ll make them better. We can do this, and you’re not alone. We’ll do this together,” she pressed the words into him, nodding and he nodded in response. Claire leaned up, letting their lips touch gingerly.

They both collapsed down to the couch, Claire cleaning her face and Owen cleared his throat. Taking shaken breaths, they turned towards each other, knowing they would only find comfort again within each other’s embrace. Owen let his arm reach out and Claire fell into his side.

“What’s going to happen now?” she sniffed and Owen licked at his lip, shrugging slightly.

“We’ll wake up tomorrow and we’ll figure it out,” he told her. She hugged him closer.

“I don’t want to fight again,” she confessed.

“We won’t.”

“I don’t want you to leave me. I love you too much to let you go,” she said, burying her face into his shirt.

“I can’t leave. My vinyl collection is mixed in with yours,” he smirked and Claire laughed. He couldn’t cause her anymore pain. This was his fault, but he wasn’t going to ruin Claire’s life because of his trauma. He would love her until there was nothing left of him to give. “I love you, Claire. I’m not going to leave.” Owen kissed the top of Claire’s head, holding onto her to dear life.

That night, for the first time in a long time, Owen slept beside Claire, holding her close. And when his nightmares came, his panic brutally punishing his mind, Claire kissed him, told him it would be fine, and stayed up with him until his heart had settled. It was the first night that he could remember going back to sleep with love in his heart and anxiety so far away, it seemed like a dream of a child. He was content. They could do this. They would thrive. It would be painful, but their love was worth it.


	7. My Dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire wonders if Owen realises it now, realises the things he’s missing because she wanted them more. She wonders and gets her answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, final day! I’ve enjoyed this week, although it was a struggle. Anyway, keep an eye out tomorrow for something special. Thank you everyone who has enjoyed this week.

_ _

_And one day you will wake up_

_Without warning or a clue_

_And start to notice little things_

_That are missing parts of you_

When Claire fell in love with Owen, she never expected to fall so deeply or so hard. Falling in love took time, took patience on both of their parts, and eventually, her heart fell under his spell and she was completely his. Years and years of falling in love every morning with the man sleeping beside her, she felt like she was the luckiest woman on the planet. Then, came the doubts, not that he was being unfaithful or something horrible, just that he would stop loving her. She knew she was hard to get along with sometimes, and it worried her when she upset Owen; will there come a day where he is just tired?

Her doubt in herself was higher than any doubt in Owen; she trusted him with her life. So, she did the only thing she could think of. She didn’t do anything ridiculous - well, maybe a little - but she needed these things, just to keep him close, to make sure she couldn’t lose him even if he was gone. Claire found things that Owen loved, took them and hid them; not to prevent him from having them again, just so she could hold and have them as her own. They were a special piece of Owen that Claire admired, Claire had adored the memory of.

One of the first things Claire found was Owen’s bracelet. It was hand-braided leather that his mother spent a long time making; she gave it to him before his first tour. Caire loved it, the contrast between the black leather and his tanned skin. Claire had spent nights, holding onto his hand, tracing her finger over the harden leather, and Owen watched her play with it. They never spoke of why she did it, but the moments where Claire was bare on his chest, they were bound and Claire’s playful nature with his bracelet. When Owen took it from his wrist one day, he forgot to put it back on. Claire instinctively took it, placing it in the bottom drawer of her dresser. Only, on occasions, wearing it around her ankle.

Claire was snapped from her thoughts when the front door closed. Owen wrapped his arms around Claire when he got from work, kissing her cheek. “Hey, do you want take out for dinner tonight?” he asked. Claire shrugged and Owen held her from behind. “Does pizza sound good or do you want something fancy?” he asked once more and Claire turned to him, draping her arms over his shoulders.

“You pick,” she smiled, tilting her head.

“Pizza it is,” Owen cheered to himself and Claire giggled. As Owen moved away, she slapped his ass and he turned to her, a little shocked and a little intrigued.

“Go order,” she giggled and Owen shook his head. Claire saw him go into their bedroom, taking off his shirt and showing the knew henley he had underneath. New is the best word to use. He didn’t like it because he prefered his old one. Claire didn’t admit to it, but she had taken it.

When Claire and Owen had first got together, Claire found out that he wore the same henley when he worked on his bike. The amount of times Claire had taken Owen inside after seeing him work on that bike was incredible. She saw the grease and dirt in the material, stained there over time, but still how she loved it. Claire would pull that same old shirt over his head so she could get to him, but when she went to wash the old thing, she felt sorry; it smelled like him, the dusty-grease with his strong cologne that was incredibly irresistible. She washed it, and when it came out, she loved the fact it still smelled like him. She put it in the bottom drawer of her dresser.

“Claire! Have you seen my henley?” he asked one day, Claire bit onto her lip silently. “Or my watch?” he cursed and Claire swallowed. “Fuck, I’ve gotta go,” he muttered before coming back into the living room and tucking his shirt into his pants.

“I’ll look around,” she smiled and Owen sighed in relief.

“Okay, love you. Bye, babe,” he said, briefly kissing her before rushing out the front door.

Owen had changed from work and Claire sat on the sofa, curling her legs up as she watched TV. She would let her eyes wander to Owen, his hungry mind only fixed on take out. He loved Friday nights; they always got take out on Friday nights. Owen ordered a few pizzas, coming to sit down next to Claire. She flipped through the channels before finding the one movie she liked and curled up to Owen’s side. Comfort and serenity were kept at his side, the place for love and warmth and comfort. He held a world of love at his side.

His watch was an odd one she took. It seemingly meant nothing, just a band he wore around his wrist but Claire remembered when he didn’t take it off when his grandfather passed. He wore it to bed, made sure it was still ticking. It meant more to him than he led on. She felt off about taking it, about putting in the drawer, but she did, checking on it every morning before work. It was still ticking. Yet, it gave him more reason to stay, so her selfishness, outweighing guilt, kept it in that drawer.

Feeling lost and unsure of herself, Claire found that she was pulling these things as one section of her life was shutting down. It was the end, and it felt like everything was going to change. Claire wasn’t sure how she knew, but everything in her told her that this, the relationship she poured her heart into was going to come loose at its seams. She didn’t know how, but it was tearing her up inside. All she wanted was Owen to know that she loved him and maybe it would let him stay.

Claire knew she wanted to marry Owen. She wanted to put on the white dress, walk down the aisle and smile to him and only him. She knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, hold him when things were hard and kiss him when everything was going right. She wanted to have a family, a boy that looked like him and a girl that looked like her. She wanted to grow old with him and spend her life arguing over what colour looks better in their bedroom. She wanted a life that had Owen in it. Yet, it felt all so far away or non-existent. She was scared.

Stealing things was sad enough as it was, but Claire knew there was more to Owen than the things he owned, so she took the things about him that meant something to her. She tooks parts of him that she could call her own and keep them for as long as she could; Claire would keep them forever. They were pieces of him that were part of who she was now; they were the things she cared the most for and would take in her hands with care every time.

Whilst Owen didn’t know it, his hair wasn’t the amazing and quiffed thing he thought it was; at the back of his head, the curls mounted. Admittedly, most of the time Owen dried his hair, there were curls ingrained in his locks, but they faded. Except the back. At the back, the curls were in high form and when Claire ran her fingers through his hair, she would ring her finger into the curls. Owen would never be the wiser, yet those curls were adorable and suited him; he was a man who seemed like the toughest man you’ll ever meet, but behind it all, he was soft and different than what people expected. He was extraordinary.

His hands, perfectly imperfect. Calloused and worn, tired and scarred. They had been worn out, smooth in his palm and rough in his fingers. With those hands, he had loved her tenderly, been rough like a warrior, and smooth as they ran down her body. His hands, a kiss to his palm and it would have him under Claire’s power. They were never used to hurt her, only love. He took such care with her, barely able to touch her until she made sure his hands could touch her properly. His knuckles, tough and perfectly untainted. He had touched his knuckles tenderly on her cheeks and every time he did, Claire would lose her breath.

Owen’s eyes were a majestic green that had a flare in them that no one else noticed. Everyone commented on his beautiful green, so uncommon yet amazing. Claire noticed them first too, but over time, the hours spent staring into them, she had found the flare that she kept close to herself. Brown. He had a flare of brown in his eyes. They would peer into her, filling her with the greenest iris, mixed with brown and blue. It was a colourful and wild experience in his eyes and they gave nothing but love.

Owen had a smile that could light up a room, but he had a smile that was so special and so directed at her, it made her feel weak. It curved brilliantly, showing teeth and his cheeks plump and rosy. On his chin, a small dimple formed and he would sometimes try and cover his mouth to hide his love. Claire would go to the ends of the earth to see that smile if need be. It could be on the worst day, and almost instantly, she would feel at home. She was his, and his smile confirmed it every time. She was so in love with him that his smile meant the world.

There was no way around it, Owen was physically attractive; meaning Claire got the opportunity to admire him in the fullest form. When he slept, Claire found the opportunity to see him without delays or wondering. He was physically a god, almost made out of marble. He had lines defining his stomach, with line upon line marking his abs. His arms ran like hills, one after the other with slow slopes. Down his hips, she found the dip and the hard curve of his pelvis, marking the sorta v shape that had her so intrigued the first time she saw him. He was everything to her.

There were times where Claire wondered if he knew those pieces of him were gone. He was almost blind when it came to these things, not paying attention but they were the most precious moments, the small things that made up what they were without even defining it. Claire held onto those things, begging Owen without a word not to let go of them when they were a life source to her. She wondered if Owen noticed it at all.

“Babe,” Owen said, wiping the edge of his lips, and setting down his plate on the coffee table. Claire’s legs were resting up on the coffee table, and she curled beside him a little more. Love at his side.

“Yeah?” she asked tiredly, yawning a little.

“Why is my bracelet around your ankle?” he asked and Claire suddenly perked up, moving to the edge of the couch and picking her legs up from the table. “That’s the bracelet my mom made me before I left on tour,” he explained but Claire didn’t need to be told; she knew. She touched her hand to her ankle.

“I know,” she sighed, looking back at Owen. “I uh.” Owen turned to her, his eyebrow raised.

“Claire?” he said, a smile on his lips. He wasn’t upset, he was curious and Claire bit onto her lip.

“I took it,” she said in a hushed voice and Owen nodded.

“I know.”

“Huh?”

“I know you’ve been taking things from me. But why?” he asked, and Claire felt off guard suddenly.

“You’ve noticed?” she questioned nervously. Owen shrugged.

“Well you do wear my bracelet all the time. I think I can tell when the woman I love is wearing something new,” he smirked, leaning in slightly as he his question had still gone unanswered.

“I took them because I love you. And keeping them meant I got to keep you,” she explained and Owen took his chance, kissing her briefly.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, getting up and taking the pizza box back to the kitchen to put everything away. Claire swallowed her pride and stood up, walking towards the kitchen timidly.

“Do you know that you have freckles on your shoulders?” she asked, and Owen suddenly perked. His brow furrowed and Claire licked at her lip. “Or that there are certain creases on your cheeks when you smile? The middle one is always the longest,” she said with a teary chuckle.  “Your scar on your forehead from your first tour. You say it’s gone, but I can still see it when you’re next to me. You have a little grumble in your voice when you speak. It’s so low sometimes, I think it could heal my heart if it were ever broken,” she said breathlessly and Owen moved around the kitchen bench.

“Claire?” he asked curiously.

“I’ve taken these things from you. I’ve taken them into my heart and permanently ingrained them in my memory. Those are _my_ things about you. I have them. No one else can call them theirs because they’re mine. I noticed them first because I love you,” Claire sniffed, trying to keep her tears at bay. Owen sighed suddenly and leaned against the wall.

“Marry me,” he said bluntly and Claire’s brow knitted.

“What?”

“I saw where you put everything, I knew you were taking things. I knew they weren’t meant to be something odd; they were something you alone cherished. So, I let you keep them in the bottom drawer,” he smiled, then pouting as his thought continued. “But do you ever look through that drawer?” Owen slyly replied.

“I don’t understand.”

“Go look. There’s something in there you might want,” he said, biting at his lip before Claire went to their bedroom. She went to the drawer of her dresser, taking the objects on top of them and finding her little pile of things. And there in the corner, something she had never taken, a little black velvet box. Her hands shook as she reached for it. She opened it, and there stood a ring, brilliant and shimmering. She took it from the box, noticing the little inscription inside the band.

‘You Will Always Be My Dear’

“Claire Dearing,” Owen said over her shoulder. Claire stood up, holding the ring in her hand and watching as the love of her life casually leaned against the doorframe. “The most beautiful woman in the whole world,” he smiled, walking towards her. He took the ring from her hand, bending down on one knee. “Would you do me the honour of marrying me?”

“You’re a fool,” Claire sniffed, covering her mouth slightly as she watched him rise up again, slowly.

“I’m taking that as yes,” he told her. Claire shook her head before frantically nodding.

“Of course it is,” she giggled. Owen placed the ring on her finger, leaning in and stealing kiss after kiss.

“Can I please have my henley back please?” he whispered suddenly and Claire moved back slightly.

“No. There are no trade backs,” she corrected him and he tilted his head.

“When will I be able to have it?” he asked.

“When you marry me,” Claire smirked. Suddenly, he bent and picked Claire up over his shoulder.

“Well, I’ve got to marry you fast!” he yelled out.

“Owen!” she giggled as his hand slapped against her ass and she was thrown down on the bed.

“You’re my fiancee and I will get my damn henley back!” he grunted, kissing her over and over again. All the little pieces of who he was, were part of Claire. Their love, a combination of pieces that they both cherished about the other, placed in their hearts because they loved those pieces first; they always would.


	8. One Bad Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time to stop putting it off; it’s time for one bad night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BONUS CAUSE I LOVE YOU GUYS!

_ _

_Talk with your fingertips_

_Don't stop the car, let's drive_

_Suck on your amber lips_

_Just give me one bad night_

A night off. That’s what Claire had; a night off and a night away. Rare but not inconvenient. She found herself in need of something more than just a night at home. She wanted a night where she could have fun, sit in a car or fuck in it. She wanted to feel free from everything around her and then the only thought she had was Owen. The man who constantly wanted her, their kisses secret and only rare. Claire wanted more. It was time for her one bad night.

Claire knew all day that she wanted to call Owen, just to ask him what he was up to. So, that afternoon, just before her shift ended, she called him. He answered quickly and she asked him about what he was doing that night. “I’ve got a date, actually. One of the new tour guides. She’s pretty cool. Have you met Lisa?” he explained to Claire and she swallowed hard.

“Uh, no, I don’t think I have,” she remarked, tucking hair behind her ear.

“Why do you ask?” he questioned suddenly and Claire chewed at the inside of her lip.

“Just checking in on your field reports,” she lied. “But you’re busy. I still expect them by Monday, alright?” she cleared her throat, almost hanging up before she heard Owen’s voice jolt.

“Wait, Claire,” he urged. “Are you sure that’s all it is?” he said, concern in his voice.

“It’s fine. You have a date so it’s fine,” Claire insisted, but Owen’s voice continued.

“Claire?” he asked once more and Claire felt a lump in the back of her throat. she felt embarrassed.

“I’ve gotta get back to work. See you around,” she finished and hung up the phone. She groaned, putting her head down on her desk. Fun? She wanted fun and she focusing on Owen. Why focus on him? She could have a one night fling with a guest or just go to the mainland on the afternoon ferry. Claire didn’t have to get her hopes up on him. Yet, she had, and she regretted ever doing so.

Making her way to her car, she licked at her lips as she tried to perk up before she saw anyone. As she was leaving the office, Claire’s arm was caught in someone’s hand and she was pulled back. When she looked up, she was shocked to see Owen, his hair tousled and all over the place. “Hey,” he smiled, tucking his hands into his pockets. Claire slipped arm from his grip, sliding away from his easily.

“Hi,” she said in a timid voice. “Gotta run,” she faked a smile, trying to move away from him. Owen stepped closer.

“Claire,” his voice filled with concern. “Is everything okay?” he asked in a hushed voice. Claire tucked her hair behind her ear before pulling away further, clearing her throat sharply.

“It’s fine. Heard the weather is going to be brutal tonight. Be careful on your date,” she bluntly stated before going towards her car. She didn’t turn back around until she got to her car; Owen was still standing there, watching her with his hands in his pockets. Taking a hard breath, she shifted into her car, and started the engine.

When she got home, she stripped out of her clothes, feeling free and bare once her bra was gone and simply put on a pair of loose-torn jeans and an old white t-shirt. She placed her hair up but felt some of it fall back down on her neck. The wind started to howl, the storm coming in harder than anticipated. Claire stayed in, watching TV and noticing the trees across the way, flowing hard as the wind was picking up. Claire kept it out of her mind for a little while longer. Until the rain started to come in, belting at the roof and hammering at her windows. When Claire looked outside, she saw her plants being ripped up from the ground, bent to the floor harshly. She groaned, untucking her ankle from underneath her and rushing outside.

She was hit with a wall of sticky air and a fountain of water. It showered over her quickly and she groaned as she made her way to her plants. She saw the remains of the little things in her front garden and sighed at the sight of them; they looked so sad. “Are you seriously worrying about your plants right now?” A harsh voice yelled and Claire shot a look to the sidewalk. Owen stood, drenched with rain and the edges of his hair held down, bouncing back when the

“Yeah? So what if I am?” she shouted. Owen’s brow furrowed, rushing towards her and taking hold of her arm firmly.

“Get inside before you get yourself killed,” he yelled in her ear, the storm still raging brutally. Claire was pulled into her house, Owen falling in after her and shaking the water from his jacket and shrugging it off gently. He started to shake off his hair, until his eyes started to stare into her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked and Owen visibly swallowed, pointing directly at her chest. She stared down and saw the white shirt now see through and sticking to her bare chest. Claire rolled her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her chest and shrugging as she questioned him again. “What are you doing here?”

“Why did you call?” he asked bluntly and Claire shrugged.

“I just wanted to, okay?” she answered as Owen shook his head.

“Not good enough,” he huffed, his hands on his hips. Claire shifted her weight onto her opposite hip, licking at her lip as she avoided Owen’s eye.

“I wanted to see you,” she confessed softly, looking up at Owen. He seemed only partially surprised, stepping forward to Claire. She backed up.

“Should have asked,” he told her.

“You had a date,” Claire shrugged.

“I cancelled,” Owen mentioned, shaking his hair of water again. Claire felt sticky, her clothes acting like a vice around her.

“ _That’s_ not good enough, Owen,” she interjected, stepping forward and pushing on his chest. “You’re letting that girl down,” she said and his jaw tightened.

“I’m letting you down too,” he said in a hushed voice before Claire rolled her eyes.

“Okay, that’s a lie,” she scoffed. Owen tilted his head, closing all the distance they had.

“You wanted to see me. Why?” he whispered and Claire felt her face go hot. She stepped back, feeling the wall get closer to her back.

“Because I did,” Claire said timidly.

“Claire,” he whispered again. She had avoided his eye until that moment, breathing as steady as she could get it. Then she looked up at him, eyes locked, and she became weak at that gaze.

“I wanted to see you,” she admitted. Owen smiled, his hand sliding over her waist, tugging at the ends of her shirts.

“You’ve got me,” he confessed and Claire took a sharp breath in.

“Yes, I do,” she agreed and wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing him down to her lips. Claire rose up on her toes as she felt his hands grip hard into the bottom of her shirt, the water dripping onto her stomach. Owen pulled the shirt clean over her head, taking her straight back into his embrace.

He bent, grabbing underneath her knees before pulling her up and into the wall. Her nipples were played with against the wet martial of his shirt, the friction being just right enough to have Claire whimpering. Taking the back of his shirt, Claire tore the material over his head and throwing the wet heap across the room. “Pants,” Claire complained and Owen let her down for just a second. She unbuttoned her jeans, and let the fall to the ground along with her underwear. As Claire did this, Owen stripped out of his pants and then, once ready, took Claire up against the wall again.

Pinning her there, Owen easily slipped into her, his hard cock pressing into her fantastically. She was breathless as he drove himself into her, over and over again. It was slow at first, getting used to the rhythm of their bodies, but as soon as Owen’s chest was flush up against hers, Claire felt right with panting like she was just suffocated. Holding on tight to the back of Owen’s neck, she kissed him roughly, not caring about the biting and the tight hold his lips had on hers.

Claire felt Owen pushing himself into her harder, forcing himself faster. Claire panted, moaning with every thrust and locking her legs around his body tighter. Owen’s mouth ran over her neck, tongue trailing against her throat. Owen was filling her beautifully and every time he drove himself harder, Claire felt like she couldn’t take anymore.

Their bodies were moving hard against each other, swirling hips and tight hands bringing them both together. Claire swiveled her hips, friction being placed on her clit delicately, and enough to have her wanting him that much more. Owen was thrusting into her now with determination in his hips and deviant ways of holding her. His hands were like electricity, sparking the most wild parts of her. Claire begged for her release, begged to come over and over again until she couldn’t feel the inside of her legs.

Inside her, she felt the pressure building, pleasure taking over every part of her and waiting the moment where he could drive her over. Owen was giving his wall, Claire’s inner walls were clamping down, eager and ready for her orgasm. Owen’s tongue danced over her racing pulse and Claire knew she was done for soon.

Claire was hanging on to dear life, her final moments before her orgasm were coming. She needed to hold on, and then she scrambled to grab onto Owen. She gripped hard into his ass, her nails fixing a place around his rounded curves. They were hard with muscles, yet there was a tenderness in him still; every thrust tensed his backside before it eventually softened.

Then, Claire moaned, squeaking as her climax was reached. Claire dragged her nails up his ass and followed through until she lost her grip on his back. Claire, using all her power left, pushed herself up and down, riding out her orgasm as best as she could. Owen panted against her skin, his hand reaching up her back and finding the ends of her hair. He pulled it as best as he could, tugging her head back and a gasp escaped Claire. She broke free of his hold and pulled him into a kiss, moaning as his cock was still buried deep inside of her.

“You’re a lot badder than you appear, Claire,” Owen whispered, moving his mouth into her neck, panting and thrusting into her with soft motions.

“I can be worse,” Claire muttered and suddenly, Owen’s attention perked. Claire gestured towards a room and Owen carried her there, slipping out of her briefly and making her breathless. He found the room, opening up the door and letting them fall to the bed, all the while, kissing and touching each other - trying to discover the parts they hadn’t explored yet.

When Claire was on the bed, she pushed lightly on Owen’s chest, a curious look on his brow, then Claire turned, crawling up the bed and pulling Owen along behind her. Guiding him to a point, she felt his cock slide in between her sleek folds, and she moaned agreeingly. Owen smirked, kissing up her shoulder blades. Claire, on all fours, let her hands bind in the sheets, feeling Owen fit into her once more. Claire moaned as Owen leaned over her, his cock buried deep inside of her.

Their pace was slow, barely parting as to make every sensation last. Claire breathed heavily, not quite moaning or whimper, barely even panting, but just breathing enough to keep her steady as she knelt. Owen kissed the back of her neck, trailing his lips over her shoulders. They were being tentative this time, savouring everything, every touch and every kiss. Claire felt like she was alight, burning and her heart elated.

Tugging on Owen’s hand, Claire brought his fingers down to her sensitive spot, stroking his fingers over her clit and she instantly moaned. “You just want everything tonight, don’t you?” Owen whispered in her ear, and she nodded in response. She giggled slightly as she felt Owen thrust into her harder and she moaned louder. His rough fingers played with her clit, circling it with just the pad of his finger, barely even touching her. She was unraveling under his control.

Owen kept up a pace that was fantastic and ruining her. When Claire felt her body riding it’s way to its edge, Owen was fixing his hips hard into Claire’s. Then, Owen’s fingers became harder and bringing Claire closer to her edge. And, suddenly, Owen fisted his hand into the back of Claire’s hair, tugging her up from the bed and her whole body was up against his. His arm moved around her, making its way up her chest and holding onto her throat lightly as the other was playing with her clit. Claire rested her head back on his shoulder, hearing him pant and moan along with her.

“Fuck,” Owen said through gritted teeth, his mouth biting down into her shoulder and Claire squeaked. “Just like that,” Owen said as Claire pushed her hips back into his. They moved together, breaking each other apart with every single movement and Claire knew she just needed Owen to give a few more thrusts before she was torn apart. She supposed he was the same.

A few thrusts later, both eager and ready, they flew apart. Claire bucked, feeling like her whole body was collapsing underneath his. He kept her upright, her hand holding his in place around her neck and her around her sex. Then, Owen came, spilling into her graciously and groaning hard as he was under his own pleasure’s control. His weight was shifted down onto her and they fell hard into the bed, their arms barely able to keep them upright. Then, their orgasms retreated, their climaxes finished and they lay together, naked and sweaty, staring up at the ceiling as they regained their breaths.

“You were wild,” Owen smirked, looking over to Claire. She bit onto her nail nervously, looking up at her ceiling. She had to make sure she wasn’t getting her hopes up.

“One bad night,” Claire shrugged. Then, Owen jumped up, hovering over her, his hands binding tightly into the sheet beside Claire.

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s gotta be more than that,” he questioned and Claire bit her lip, nodding.

“Agreed,” she smiled and Owen smirked, almost kissing her lips before making his way down her throat and down her chest and down her stomach. He just kept going down. And Claire loved it. They stayed together until the storm passed, holding each other and not really saying much. Claire hadn’t experienced something so wild and crazy in a very long time, and for this all to happen was insane to her. The storm passed easily and the sun rose, Owen’s arms wrapped around her and tender fingers gracing over her skin as he woke.


End file.
